


as long as stars are above you

by clarasdoctahs (HooperMolly)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HooperMolly/pseuds/clarasdoctahs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara moves to the town of Gallifrey, Scotland to teach at the University. It's there that she meets the aloof John Smith. She finds herself drawn to him immediately, getting along with him when few others do. Deep down she knows that this is what it feels like to find your soulmate. But there's one problem - John isn't the name on her wrist.</p><p>A Twelvey/Clara soulmate AU. Rose/Ten secondary pairing. Other pairings are background/implied and are listed inside in the end notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. as long as the seasons need to

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this fic in September 2014 so the characterisation of Clara and Twelve is strongly influenced by how they were in season 8. Pairings mentioned are listed in end notes and will be updated each chapter, as are explanations for several of the character inclusions and choices. (3 of 4 chapters are finished and ready to upload, 4th chapter is almost completed.)

They were playing House. Mickey was sweeping the little cubby house out with a scraggly looking branch he’d found, Clara was in the ‘kitchen’ making mud pies, and Rose was sitting at the little table in the corner.

 

“I’ve got to prepare for the big presentation.” She said, drawing lots of important squiggly lines on a piece of paper. Rose’s dad was always preparing for big presentations, so they must be an important adult thing to do. Like sweeping or cooking or finding the person who has your name on their wrist.

~

They were playing Bonding. Clara was wearing her favourite pirate outfit to be the celebrant while Mickey and Rose were dressed as fairies, although Mickey had just put on the wings and a tiara because Clara’s fairy dress still needed to be mended so there was none to spare.

“May I see your arrrm, Mr Smith?” Clara said grandly, in her very best pirate accent. Mickey showed her his right wrist, where she’d written ‘Rose’ in her best attempt at neat handwriting.

“And now may I see your arrrm, Ms Tyler?” Rose obliged her. 

“By the power given to me by the Queen and Jesus, I say you are bonded. You may now change bands.” She waved her hook arm about. They didn’t have real cuffs. They weren’t even old enough for the simple elastic training bracelets that most people got when they were teens.

Instead they were wearing Rose’s hair elastics around their right wrists, the soul wrist. Now that Clara had bonded them, Rose and Mickey took turns at putting another hair elastic over the left wrist, the bond wrist, just as they’d seen people do in the movies. 

They knew that Pete and Jackie wore cuffs on both wrists, as did Dave and Ellie, and that Mickey’s grandma only wore the one on her soul wrist. They knew this meant that the Tylers and the Oswalds had been Bonded while Mickey’s grandparents had instead been Married, but the distinction at this age was lost on them.

“Can we play pirates and fairies now?” Clara asked, having grown bored now that her role was done.

“Yeah, okay.”

~

“Honey, can you tell Clara that she’s wrong about Romeo and Juliet?” Rose called out to her boyfriend. Mickey muted the game, exchanged a terrified glance with Pete Tyler, and peered over the back of the sofa to where Rose and Clara were sprawled out on the floor studying.

“Rosie, I love you, but I can’t do that. We both know that she’s the one who knows the books and stuff.” He replied, ducking to avoid Rose’s copy of Romeo and Juliet that she’d frisbee’d at him.

“I’d get over there if I were you, Mick.” Pete said, nodding his head towards the girls. Mickey slid off the sofa, walking over to the study corner and flopping down beside his girlfriend and best friend.

“Okay. Contentions. Give them to me.” He said, gesturing at his chest. There was a few seconds pause as Rose and Clara silently fought over who would go first.

“I think that Romeo and Juliet were future soulmates and the reason they were fell in love so fast was because they could sense that and didn’t see the point in waiting.” Rose said very quickly and firmly, staring pointedly at Mickey as she spoke.

“They knew their parents would try and separate them, at least until their namedays, and they weren’t willing to risk spending years of their lives apart.” She added. Mickey nodded slowly to indicate that he was considering what she said. Then he turned to look at Clara.

“They’re children, there’s nothing in the bond research to indicate that there is a significant pull towards each other before adulthood. There is, on the other hand, plenty of evidence to suggest that many teenagers experience feelings _similar_ to those of a bond but are not those of a bond, and at a much higher rate than those who have already had their nameday. As far as I can see from the textual evidence, Romeo and Juliet are simply two young people who have fallen in love, in much the same way as unbonded adults. But because they are not emotionally equipped to handle their feelings, and their families don’t help the situation with their petty feuding, they make the ill advised decisions that led to their tragic, untimely deaths.” Mickey’s expression didn’t change as Clara explain her position but Rose grew more and more sullen.

“Okay but we don’t know everything about bonds. Madame Vastra said so in biology just the other day. Bond research is still miles behind loads of other fields in biology _and_ psychology.” Rose replied hotly.

“Show me the textual evidence then, Rose. Where in the play does it indicate that there’s a kind of unusual bond happening? Friar Tuck is the best source of bond knowledge we have and he spends most of his time warning Romeo and Juliet to slow down. Conducting soul ceremonies was part of his job. The point Shakespeare is trying to make is clear: beware the follies of young people who mistake adolescent love for bonding.” It was only then that she saw the warning looking in Mickey’s eyes, and too late she turned to look at Rose. She was visibly shaking with anger, her eyes shining as she determinedly blinked back tears.

“You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” She said, chest heaving as she tried to keep her breathing steady.

“It’s just a debate, Rose.” Clara replied, wondering what she could have said to set Rose off like this.

“Just a debate? Just a....Clara Oswald, you’re… you’re _impossible_.” Rose yelled, scrambling to her feet and storming off. A few seconds later and a door slammed.

“What did I do?” She asked Mickey, trying to hold back her own tears.

“Clara... she sees herself in Juliet and me in Romeo. Isn’t that obvious? So by dismissing them, she felt like you were invalidating her. Us.” Mickey told her gently.

“Oh no. No wonder she was so upset. I’m sorry Mickey.” Clara said, putting her face in her hands.

“No need to apologise to me. I’d wait a while before going after Rose though, give her a chance to calm down or else you’ll just end up fighting again.” He advised, standing up so that he could head back to finish watching the game.

“Oh, and for what it’s worth? While I think your reading of the text is the most similar to the author’s intent, I prefer Rose’s interpretation and I think it’s a valid one. Not everything has to be soley academic, Clara.” He added, before walking back over to the sofa to join a mildly shell-shocked looking Pete. 

As she sat there by herself, staring down at her copy of the text, she realised that Mickey was right.

~

Growing up as a single child with no cousins meant that Clara had never gone to a nameday celebration before, so she was glad that Mickey was the eldest of her friends and she’d have a chance to experience a couple before her own. 

It started out much like a normal birthday, with friends clumping together on one side of the room and family hanging about on the other. Mickey flitted effortlessly between the two, Rose in tow, careful to ensure he spoke to everyone at least once. 

About halfway through the night, Mickey’s Gran stood up and called for everyone’s attention.

‘I’d like to thank everyone for coming out tonight to help Mickey celebrate his nameday. It’s a privilege to see how well loved and well supported my grandson is. I’m not going to take up your time with speeches about what a good man Michael has become. You know him. His actions speak louder than I ever could. So instead I ask you to raise your glasses with me. To health and happiness!”

 _To health and happiness._ It echoed around the room as everyone toasted Mickey. He waited for the buzz to die down before he began his own speech, Rose still glued to his side.

“Thank you, it’s wonderful to be able to share this with all of you, the people I love. Thanks to Gran for all the work she’s put in, not just tonight but over the past 18 years. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you and I’m grateful for your love and support every single day.” His gran dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a tissue. 

“Thanks to Rose for being the best girlfriend I could have asked for over the past 3 years. Your love has helped push me to reach higher and further.” He squeezed her affectionately. “And lastly, thanks to Clara for putting up with us.” Laughter rang out around the room as everyone enjoyed the joke. Mickey gave Clara a little acknowledging salute and she returned the gesture with a grin. 

Then Mickey’s Gran presented him with a sleek silver gift box. Everyone knew what was inside but still a hush fell over the room as he took it from her, carefully unwrapping it so that he didn’t tear the paper. 

The cuff was beautiful. Black leather with intricate detailing around the edges, delicate black strapping that would tie the cuff snugly over Mickey’s wrist. As he lifted it up to show the room, Clara could see the soft silk inner flap that sat over the soulname, preventing it from showing through the straps. 

A beaming Rose helped him take off his children’s cuff, before his Gran assisted him with putting on his new, permanent cuff. 

“Thanks Gran. It’s beautiful.” He murmured as she finished tying the thin straps. It was just Mickey and his Gran, there was never a lot of spare money to go around and Clara could tell that she’d been saving for a long time to afford such a fine, beautiful cuff for her grandson.

“Not as beautiful as you, dear.” Gran said, brushing his cheek affectionately with her thumb. There was a moment that Clara thought he was going to cry but he somehow steadied himself and turned back to the crowd with a smile.

“Okay, formalities are over so I expect you all to dance. Even you Adam.” He pointed to a boy who was standing with a small group in the corner. He froze, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“I don’t dance.” Adam said, looking like he was about to run for the door.

“Well you do tonight.” Mickey replied. “Now who’s ready for some trashy 90’s love ballads?” 

A collective cheer went up from the younger members of the crowd, except for Adam who groaned and tried to meld with the wall.

“Make him dance will you Clara?” Rose whispered as Mickey led her past. The pair made a great show of bowing and curtseying.

“M’lady.”

“M’lord.”

“My laaady.”

“My looord.” 

They continued to address each other in such fashion until someone took the hint and started the music. If she was being honest, Clara didn’t really like dancing either, but she didn’t want to upset one of her best friends on his name day so she walked over to Adam and held out her hand.

“Come on, we’ll both suffer together.” He looked down at her offered hand with a look that Clara could only describe as terrified disdain. When she didn’t give up he let out a sigh and took it.

“Okay. Okay, fine.” It was awkward and they couldn’t move in sync to save themselves. Adam was really Rose’s friend that Mickey knew, Clara rarely saw him outside of events like this since he went to a private school. Their minimal acquaintance was made all the more obvious by the ease and comfort with which Mickey and Rose danced together.

“Must be nice for her. He’ll get her name on his wrist tomorrow and she won’t even have to wait until her nameday before she knows.” Adam said, gazing wistfully over at the happy couple. 

Clara glanced over her shoulder at them. Rose had her head nestled in under Mickey’s chin as they slowly rotated on the spot. They moved so well together that it could be their soul ceremony, their first dance as a bonded couple.

“Yeah. Must be nice.”

~

Her bed was shaking so violently that it must be one hell of an earthquake. She sat up with a start, trying to remember a show where there had been an earthquake so she would know what to do. Something about door frames...or was it tables?

“Clara. Phone for you.” Her father was standing next to her bed, holding out the phone.

“Did you just shake my bed to wake me up?” She asked blearily. She was still half expecting the roof to come crashing down over her head.

“Well you didn’t respond when I shook your shoulder.” 

“Okay. What time is it?” She rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear the fog from them.

“6:30am.”

“Who on earth is ringing me at 6:30am?”

“It’s Rose.” He answered, before clamping a hand over the receiver. “She sounds upset, so be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle.” Clara grumbled, taking the phone from him. He raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘whatever you say’, before leaving her to talk to her friend in piece.

“Hey Rosie, what’s up?” She tried to sound brighter and cheerier than she felt. The only response she got was the sound of distraught sobbing.

“Oh no, Rose, what’s the matter?” The crying continued, forcing Clara to listen far more closely than she would have liked to at such an early hour of the morning.

“It. Wasn’t. Rose.” The words came out slowly, surrounded by a series of hiccups and wails.

“What wasn’t Rose? What?” Clara’s brain couldn’t focus.

“The name. His soulname. It wasn’t me.” Rose choked out before dissolving into a fresh wave of tears. Clara’s heart sank. They’d been so sure. Everyone had wondered why they were even bothering to wait for the formality of Mickey’s nameday.

“Oh Rosie. Rose, I’m so sorry.” She said, trying to shake the feeling that everything was about to change.

“I was so certain. I _felt_ it deep down inside. Everyone always said that they could see it. Everyone.” Rose said. She sounded so despondent, so lost and it killed Clara that there was nothing she could do to take away her friend’s pain.

“Where do you go from here? What are you going to do?” Clara asked.

“I don’t know.” Rose replied, slowly. “I really don’t know.”

~

Rose’s nameday was far more elaborate and crowded than Mickey’s relatively subdued affair. All the neighbours were invited, which included the Oswalds, so Clara’s mum and dad were milling about pretending that they knew people they didn’t. 

There was a different feeling, a restless buzz that set Clara on edge. She supposed it was because people thought they _knew_ the soulname that Mickey was going to have. He was here, of course. He and Rose would always be friends, but their relationship hadn’t survived the shock of finding out they weren’t soulmates. 

Clara had tried to console Rose, pointing out that there were plenty of people who weren’t soulmates who lived perfectly happily together and got Married instead of Bonded. But Rose wouldn’t listen. Clara swore she once heard Rose mutter something about Romeo and Juliet under her breath and the guilt was so bad that she couldn’t eat properly for days after. 

Then Mickey had confided in Clara that it was Rose who had ended the relationship. _‘Married people just don’t have the same rights as Bonded people. You know? ‘Separate but equal’. She’s young and scared and I won’t hold that against her. I just want her to be happy.’_ Clara understood. 

Everything she’d ever seen on the telly or read in a book said that you found your soulmate, you bonded, you lived happily ever after. Of course she knew that it didn’t work like that, not always. Reality got in the way of the fairy tale. But Rose and Mickey had seemed like such a sure thing. How could the universe have decided that there was someone better out there for both of them? 

Someone nudged her and her thoughts faded away as she realised the whole room was looking at her. Rose was smiling that broad smile of hers and Clara realised they were up to her in the thank you’s. She grinned back, giving a little wave. 

Once the thank yous were over, Jackie brought out a small pink box, wrapped in yellow ribbon. Clara already knew what the cuff inside looked like. She’d helped Rose pick it out. True to form, the cuff was a cream leather, with a pink leather accent that wrapped around the centre. It was a statement, in the same way a dress or showy necklace was. Rather than thin leather straps, the cuff was held in place by small gold buckles. It was feminine, it was durable, and it was very, very Rose. 

Then Jackie brought out an enormous pink frosted cake smothered in iced roses, and the rest of the night devolved into groaning in a corner with Adam and Mickey after eating far too much. 

~

While Mickey had continued to guard his name like it was a national secret, Rose had told her parents, Clara’s parents, Mickey’s Gran, and all of her friends.

“I feel like I’m hypervigilant now, always on the lookout in case I find him.” Rose said, grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl they were both sharing. 

“It’s like every time someone introduces themselves I’m wondering ‘is this going to be it?’. It’s exhausting.”

“It will get better. They said to expect that in class, remember? The novelty wears off and you can relax around strangers again.” Clara replied. A guilty look crossed Rose’s face.

“Oh. Did they? I’m not sure I was at that class, I might have-”

“Skipped school to go hang with Mickey.” Clara finished for her. With a smile she reached out and took Rose’s hand.

“You’ll find him, whoever this James is. Just follow your instinct. That’s what it always boils down to.”

“You read too many books.” Rose shook her head, trying not to break out into one her trademark broad grins. Clara laughed.

“Nah. No such thing.”

~

Clara insisted on a small nameday. Her dad wanted a big party, to rent a hall and invite everyone they knew but Clara had politely yet firmly declined. Just Dad, Mum, Rose, Mickey, Gran and the family, and Adam because she felt slightly obligated now that he was part of her friendship group. 

It turned out to be a great idea. The night was fun and Clara felt incredibly loved and supported. Even though she hated surprises, her parents had managed to talk Clara into letting them surprise her with her first cuff. It was beautiful, a striking black patent leather cuff with red detail, and two delicate silver heart clasps that snapped shut. 

Her father had cried and her mother had thanked everyone individually for coming, and Clara had gone home buzzing with nervous energy knowing that the next day she would have a name on her wrist. A name that was all her own. It got so bad that she couldn’t sleep, laying there all night waiting for the itch that would tell her that her name had come. 

She missed it, of course, falling asleep just before dawn. When she woke up, it was after nine and her mother was knocking on her bedroom door.

“Clara? Honey? Are you okay?” She called. Clara realised that she was worried and had mistaken her sleeping in for being upset or sulking. 

“I overslept!” Clara shouted back, throwing her covers back so that she could see her wrist. There it was. Small, neat, black writing on her right wrist.

“It’s here. I’ve got it!” She squealed excitedly.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Her mother asked. Clara ran a finger over the name on her wrist, paying closer attention to every letter. _**Doctor**_. What the hell kind of name was that? Who called their kid _Doctor?_

“Um, I don’t know. It’s not exactly obvious.” She called back, before her mum could get too suspicious at her silence.

“One of those names, eh?” Clara looked down at the name that wasn’t Tim or Sam or Alex or something usual, something expected.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

~

“I’ve joined the army.” They were the first words out of Mickey’s mouth after she opened the front door a few days later.

“Okay then. What happened to the automotive apprenticeship?” Clara asked, inviting him inside with a sweeping gesture.

“I wasn’t feeling it, anymore. Besides, I can get the same qualifications through the defense force and they’re better recognised than any of the local tech colleges.” Mickey replied, with a shrug.

“They’ll be lucky to have you.” Clara told him with a smile.

“Oh stop it, you.” Mickey said, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Did I hear the door?” Ellie Oswald asked, coming around the corner from the hall.

“Hi Mrs Oswald.” Mickey greeted her politely.

“Hello Mickey, good to see you!”

“Mickey’s joining the army.” Clara blurted out. Ellie’s eyebrows shot up.

“What made you decide on that?” She asked, curiously.

“I don’t know. I just feel it. It’s where I’m meant to be.” Mickey replied, seemingly confident in his vague convictions.

“Ah! Then you’ve probably made the right choice.” Ellie said knowingly. 

“I hope so, Mrs Oswald.” Mickey gave her his warmest, broadest smile.

“Now, can I get you some tea? I’ve just made muffins.”

~

She read a lot of soulbond literature over the next 3 years as she studied. Maybe _**Doctor**_ was a foreign name. She thought she ought to travel.

~

Maybe they were actually a medical doctor. Should she try and get a job at a clinic?

~

It was a soulname, not a soul occupation. What a stupid idea.

~

Coal Hill High had a P.E teacher with the surname Baker. Maybe it was a surname.

~

She hated soulnames.

~

Nothing in the literature said soulnames were ever surnames. God. Why did she end up with such a ridiculous name on her wrist?

~

Mickey found his Martha. Met her while out on deployment. She was a doctor, he was a mechanic. They hit it off right away and ended up having their ceremony on base, just in case something went wrong while they were deployed. It read like a film script. Not that Clara was jealous. She wasn’t jealous at all.

~

She was only 25. Plenty of time.

~

She was only 26. Plenty of time.

~

She was only 27 and Rose had called her for the first time in a few months.

“I found him. My James. I _found_ him, Clara. His name is James Smith and he’s from Scotland. He has the most gorgeous hair. It’s to die for. Honestly, it is.” She babbled excitedly before ending with a dreamy sigh.

She was only 27. She had plenty of time.

~

“I’m going for a job interview.” She announced one morning as she sat down to her toast. Her dad inhaled his coffee and started to cough.

“What’s wrong with Coal Hill?” He spluttered.

“Nothing. But there’s an opening as the english teacher for the high school program at the University of Gallifrey.” She replied, taking a bite of toast.

“Gallifrey? That’s in Scotland.” He said it as though she didn’t already know.

“Yes, dad. It is.” She’d looked it up when she first stumbled across the ad. Gallifrey was a small town in Scotland that was only anything bigger than a village because of the University.

“You want to move to Scotland?”

“Dave, don’t be rude.” Her mother chided.

“It’s another country, El.” Her father protested.

“What is it about this job that makes you want to do it more than Coal Hill?” Her mother asked, turning to face her.

“I don’t know. I just feel like it’s where I’m meant to be.” She’d felt it as soon she’d seen the advert, this strong pull deep in the pit of stomach, a _yearning_ unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. 

“What does that mean?” Her father asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“It could be her leaf, Dave.” Ellie said, her voice low and serious.

“Scotland?” It seemed to be the biggest hurdle for her father, that she might end up living in another country.

“It could be her leaf.” Ellie repeated. Her parents exchanged meaningful glances before Dave nodded.

“Go kill that interview, honey.” He said, smiling across at Clara.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll do my best.”

~

Clara packed an overnight bag and her mother dropped her off at the station. She knew it was going to take her over 5 hours and that there would be three changeovers, so she made sure to take two books - one for the journey there, and one for the trip back tomorrow.

A woman with bright red hair met her at Gallifrey Station when she arrived.

“You must be Clara Oswald. Nice to meet you, I’m Donna Noble.” Clara stared at her, disarmed by the unexpected recognition. There were at least two dozen people who had gotten off the train yet she’d made a beeline straight for Clara.

“How did you know it was me? I don’t remember including a photo in my application.”

“You didn’t. You just look like a school teacher.” Donna replied matter-of-factly.

“Oh. Um, thanks?” 

“You look nervous. Let’s have a chat over a nice cup of tea. I know a good place.”

They got into Donna’s car and drove to a small cafe on the main street. It was the most casual interview that Clara had ever had. Donna was open, friendly, and encouraging.

“I already know about your qualifications. I want to get to know you.” She had said, smiling over at Clara with a strong cup of tea clasped in her hands. 

Clara’s train of thought had stuttered to a halt. She’d prepared for the usual line of inquiry, the direct questions about her skills that always made her feel like she didn’t know enough but she still liked because they were familiar.

“There’s no need to be afraid. Be free.” Donna was loud and brash and unashamedly herself.

“Just be myself.” Clara said, more to herself than anyone else. Donna smiled and nodded.

“Exactly.”

Okay. She could do that. By the time she was checking in to the motel she’d booked for that night, she was actually feeling okay about how she’d done. There might be a chance that she’d made a good impression. She slept well that night.

~

She had to wait nearly two weeks but she got the job. She resigned from Coal Hill the next day.

~

Clara didn’t know what was worse about moving out: the househunting, the cost, or the way her parents completely and totally panicked.

~

Her parents. Definitely.

~

She found a house for private sale. It wasn’t even a house, really. Just a granny flat that was being sold off as a separate lot in the outskirts of Gallifrey. But it had its own driveway, and a tiny carport that was big enough for her 2005 Toyota Corolla as long as the rain was falling directly downwards and there was no breeze. 

The fact that it had a separate bedroom, and a small, cramped bathroom was a pleasant bonus considering what anyone she knew from school had moved into as their first place of their own. A large bookshelf that had been given to her by her grandmother dominated the modest (and really, calling it modest was in itself being modest) living-dining-kitchen area. 

Other than that a table, two chairs, a desk, a two seater couch and a wall-mounted television was the only other furniture that could fit. Managing that had been a day long, life sized jigsaw puzzle. But it was her space and hers alone, and that’s what really mattered. 

Five days until her first day of work.

~

There was a bus to the University that stopped at the end of the street. According to the timetable it took 8 minutes to get from the stop to the campus. She tried walking the more direct route in the morning. It took her twenty minutes. She wasn’t going to catch the bus. 

Four days until her first day of work.

~

There was one week until the Christmas holidays ended. Teenagers and people in their early twenties were starting to move into the houses around her. She was in the middle of a bunch of students, renting. Just brilliant. 

She started tomorrow.

~

The mad rush to prepare during the last week before classes started had always been one of the best and worst things about teaching. It was exciting because you got to build up the syllabus in readiness for a new group of students. It was terrifying because there just weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything that needed to be done. This year would be extra scary and prone to disaster due to the whole ‘new school’ thing. 

Of course it wasn’t just an unfamiliar work environment. These students were the best and brightest in the country. Her entire job was to challenge them in a way they couldn’t be challenged in their regular schools. 

She woke up on Monday feeling mercifully well rested and determined to get as much done as she possibly could. Parking was free until the start of term so Clara drove her Corolla, grabbing a spot in the mostly empty carpark at the rear of the campus. She’d driven past several times, and looked over the campus map at least a dozen more, but the size of the University of Gallifrey still surprised her. 

Buildings sprawled away to her left, and stretched out in front of her. The Advanced Program for High School Students buildings were located at the very back of the campus, in a pair of old buildings that had been unused for over a decade before the University began the APHSS. One was about twice the size of the other. 

Clara walked around for a few minutes, taking in the cracks in the brickwork, the crumbling of the facade, and the peeling paintwork. It was a stark contrast to the freshly landscaped garden that encircled the buildings. An odd choice, really. The lush lawn only served to highlight the wearied and worn age of the structure. 

Having established a sense that she knew where she was, Clara found the main entrance to the first of the buildings and entered. There was no need to worry about where to go. Although there was a map on the wall that could have told her where Donna’s office was, Clara didn’t have to consult it. Donna’s voice was drifting down from the second floor.

Clara climbed the stairs, following the voice to a large office a few doors down from the top of the stairs. The door itself was open, allowing Clara to see Donna sitting at her desk, chatting away animatedly on the phone. 

“I know! That’s what I said!” Then she noticed Clara standing in the doorway. 

“Oh, the new teacher is here so I have to go. Yeah! I’ll call you back later. Ta-ta!” She hung up and rose from her chair. 

“Clara! Welcome to Gallifrey! You didn’t get too lost then?” She asked, offering her hand for Clara to shake. Clara took it. 

“Oh no. I parked out the back so there wasn’t really a chance.” Clara replied, tugging awkwardly at her sleeve. 

“Trust me, there’ll be plenty of them if you ever venture out into the rest of the University, which you’ll have to if you want to access the library or get a proper lunch. Come on, I’ll give you a tour of our turf.” For the most part, the inside of the buildings was better presented than the outside. Renovated might be too strong of a word, but they’d at least had a fresh coat of paint and some new carpeting. 

The bigger of the two buildings was the science sector, while arts and humanities occupied the smaller of the two. Both buildings had a similar layout with larger rooms on the first floor and offices and smaller rooms on the second. Clara’s office was at the far end of the humanities corridor, closer to the carpark than the rest of the campus. There was an empty space where the name placards would normally be. 

“They’ll be in by the start of term, hopefully. You’re new and we’ve shifted the maths tutor over from the science building. It was getting too crowded over there.” Clara remembered reading up on the APHSS before she’d gone for her interview, confident that she wouldn’t be caught out as not having done her research. 

About 75% of students took a science heavy course load, and the number of tutors for chemistry, physics, and biology outnumbered those for english, history, or the visual arts three to one. She’d assumed that most of the chemistry or physics students would be taking maths too. Maybe it wasn’t really a space issue but rather a personality clash. Oh well, whatever the reason she would have to share an office with this person so she would just have to work around it. 

“I’ll leave you here to get yourself set up. If you need me, I’ll be in my office. I have an open door policy. You’re welcome in any time, unless the door is closed. If it’s urgent, knock and wait for me to let you in. Otherwise just go do something else for a while and come back later.” Donna instructed. Clara nodded her understanding. 

“Thanks. I’ll be sure to remember that.” She said. 

“It’s good to have you with us Clara.” Donna told her, smiling warmly before disappearing off down the hall.

Without Donna in the room, it felt awfully empty in spite of its small size, and Clara set about carrying all her supplies from her car up to her office. By the time she had set everything up the way she liked it, she was starving. 

She glanced at her watch and was surprised to find that it was lunch time. A quick trip to the staff room - in reality little more than a cupboard with a sink and a refrigerator - turned up a handful of teabags, a tin of stale biscuits, and a bowl of questionable fruit. 

Walking across to Donna’s office seemed like far too much effort, so she went back to her office and picked up the phone and dialed the extension that was written on a peeling sticker attached to the receiver. 

“Hello, Donna Noble speaking.” Donna answered it after a few rings. 

“Hey, it’s Clara. I was just wondering if there was anywhere on campus that was likely to be open so that I could buy something to eat?”

“The main cafe will be open. It’s in the student building in the middle of the campus. Need me to take you there?” 

“No, I’ll manage. Thanks for the offer.” Clara was wary of taking up too much of Donna’s time on the first day. No matter how genial Donna seemed, she was worried about giving off the wrong impression. 

As it turned out, nothing was signposted better than the student building. Every single sign she encountered included it, helpful arrows pointing out the correct path. There was a smattering of people in the student building, a few in a small computer lab just off the main entrance but mostly dotted around the tables and chairs in the centre of a food court that consisted of a half dozen shops. 

The only one that was open was a generic looking cafe that sold sandwiches, chips, and drinks. She ordered a salad roll and a coffee, eating in silence while she people watched. It was a terrible habit that she’d tried to break but always lapsed back into when she felt out of place. 

One post grad student sat in the middle of a pile of books, muttering angrily to herself. A pair who were almost certainly bonded sat practically in each other’s laps, sharing an enormous bowl of chips. The barista looked like he’d quite like to murder every single person in the place as he steamed milk. 

She finished her lunch, neatly disposed of her rubbish, and left the food court feeling confident that she would be able to find her way back to the APHSS buildings. Ten minutes and a lot of doubling back and walking in circles later, Clara realised that she did not, in fact, know how to find her office. 

“All right Clara, don’t panic. Where are we now?” She said to herself, looking up at the nearest building for some clue as to where she was. 

There was something written near the top but she couldn’t make it out. She took a few steps back to see if that made it any easier and collided with something. The something made a loud grunting noise and Clara realised it was a someone. 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” She exclaimed, whirling around to apologise. 

“It’s fine.” The someone replied. It was a he, about a foot taller than her with the kind of fluffy hair that made her want to play with it for hours in spite of all the grey. 

“Are you sure? I thought I felt a foot under my heel.” 

“It’s fine, really.” 

“I was too busy trying to figure out where I was to pay attention, it’s my fault.” 

“I promise you, it’s okay.” 

“I was just trying to prove to myself that I didn’t need any help getting around because it’s the first time I’ve lived away from my parents and I know how that sounds when you’re 27 and I’m starting out at a new place in an entirely different country and I really didn’t want anyone to know how terrified I am by the whole prospect.” At first they’d been talking over each other, but once she started rambling the man had stopped trying to reassure her. He was now watching her curiously. 

“Oh god. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m such a mess.” She hastened to try and apologise or do something that might make her feel a little less like a walking disaster. 

“Yes. Yes, you are.” It should have sounded judgemental, or cruel. He had a face that looked made for judging, with the most intense eyebrows she’d even seen on a human being, yet there was no judgement in his expression. Just that damned curiosity. She must have been glaring at him because he suddenly put his hands up in front of him, defensively. 

“You said it. I was just agreeing. It’s okay. I’m a mess too. It’s a university. It’s full of messes.” 

Clara nodded. 

“Good point. Can you tell me where I am?” She asked, praying that her face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

“Politics. I.T.” He answered, pointing to the building behind him and then the one that Clara had been looking at. “But I don’t think you’re looking for either of them. Where are you headed?” 

“Oh, um, APHSS buildings.” 

“Come on then. I’ll show you how to get there.” He lead her through the campus, pointing to the first few signs they came across. 

“See how they all have the bus station on them? If you get lost, just follow them. There’s a path that runs directly from the buses to APHSS.” He explained. 

“Oh god. Now I feel really stupid.” Clara groaned, as they reached a long path that she could see lead to where she needed to be. 

“Don’t. Not everyone can know as much as me.” He tossed his head back proudly, smiling down at her. Was he trying to _flirt?_

“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.” Clara quoted. 

“Ah. I should have guessed you were an English teacher. You look like one.” He said, winking at her. Was _that_ flirting? Is that how 50 something year old men tried to flirt? Or was he just trying to be friendly? Did it matter to her either way? 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” She wasn’t aware of any inherently english teacher-esque qualities that she possessed in terms of looks, but they must be there since she was so easily recognised.

The man shrugged. 

“If you don’t want people to think you look like an english teacher maybe you should stop dressing like one.” He suggested. 

“I am an English teacher. No matter what I wear, I will always be dressed as an English teacher, because that’s what I am.” Clara pointed out. 

“I was just trying to help. It seemed to be distressing you.”

“I wasn’t distressed.” 

“You sounded distressed.” 

“Well I wasn’t.” She said, shortly.

The man threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She wasn’t smiling. Her lips just happened to be curled up at the edges in a way that looked a lot like a smile. 

“Here we are.” He said, making a grand, sweeping gesture with his arm. 

“Thank you for your help.” Clara said, gratefully. 

“It was no trouble. Nice meeting you. I’m John. John Smith.” He smiled brightly down at her. 

“Clara. Clara Oswald.” She might have been mistaken, but she thought there might have been a sadness creep into his eyes.

“If you need anything, come find me. Farewell, Clara Oswald.” As he walked away, he somehow looked smaller, as though he was trying to fold into himself. 

It was only once she was back in the privacy and solitude of her office that she realised that he had said his first name once before giving his full name. She tried to recall his left wrist and while she wasn’t certain, she couldn’t remember him wearing a cuff on that side. John Smith was in his 50’s and unbonded. 

Suddenly she felt like she had all the time in the world.


	2. as long as the sea is bound to

The rest of the week was a blur of paperwork and frustration, interrupted only by trips to fetch enough caffeine to give an elephant a heart attack, and the arrival of her officemate. There had been a knock at the door and Clara had turned around expecting to find Donna. Instead she had found herself face to face with a smile attached to a man.

“You must be English.” He said.

“You must be Maths.” Clara replied, matching his smile.

“Danny. Danny Pink.” She liked the look of him. Tall, dark, and definitely handsome. There was something about the way he carried himself that reminded her of Mickey after he joined the army. 

“Clara. Clara Oswald. You don’t sound Scottish.” The stupidity of the comment hit her as soon as she said it. After all, neither was she. Or Donna.

“I’m not. I’m from Birmingham.”

“Ah well that explains it.”

“I was just going to grab a coffee. Care to come with?”

“Sure. We can lay out the ground rules for the office.” The smile on Danny’s face faltered.

“Ground rules?” He asked hesitantly. Was that actual fear on his face?

“They aren’t as scary as they sound.” She tried to reassure him. Danny raised an eyebrow. 

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

~

She kept walking past the Politics and IT buildings, even though they weren’t on the way to the student building. It wasn’t that she _wanted_ to see John again, she just wouldn’t mind if she happened to run into him in a very casual manner. So casual that she’d spent every night thinking about what kind of funny things she would say when she did catch him. Not in a weird way, or anything. It was perfectly normal to want to be friends with someone who was probably twice your age. Just a normal, ordinary desire to be friends. 

Yes. That was it.

~

She had no luck. Maybe she should look him up on the staff list. Or was that more like stalking? He could have come to see her, if he wanted to meet her again. They’d only briefly talked after she had literally walked into him. He probably didn’t even remember her, hadn’t spared her another thought after he unlost her. 

~

That wasn’t even a real word.

~

She was a goddamned mess.

~

After work drinks with Donna and Danny became a Friday night ritual. All three of them tried to include the stipulation that they wouldn’t talk about work but they were rarely able to stick to it.   
Danny was half asleep in his chair, head resting on his hand as he stared down at the table as though he wished it would transform into a bed. 

“Of course I can’t be out too late tonight. I’m in the party of a soul ceremony tomorrow.” Donna chattered away. This yanked Clara suddenly back into the conversation.

“I’ve also got a soul ceremony tomorrow.” She exclaimed.

“James and Rose?”

“Yes. I’m a childhood friend of Rose. What about you?”

“Best friend of the groom. I’ve got the loveliest dress, total class it is. Just you wait, it’s going to be absolutely stunning. You’ll love it.”

There was a loud clink and Clara threw herself backwards to avoid the beer flooding its way across the table towards her. Danny’s elbow had slipped, knocking over his nearly full pint.

“Ah, bloody hell.” Danny said, snatching paper napkins from the dispenser on the table and throwing them down everywhere he could reach.

“I think someone needs to go home.” Clara said, doing her best to help Danny mop up the mess as Donna signalled at the bar staff for a cloth.

“Actually I think we all need to go home.” She added, knowing that the next day would be a long one for her and even longer for Donna. They disposed of the wet paper as Donna neatly and quickly wiped down the table properly before saying their goodbyes and parting ways. 

~

In her dreams she took off her cuff to find that the name was no longer there, just a blank patch of skin where black script should be. It was itchy, so she scratched it, until new letters began to appear. Where it had once said _**Doctor**_ , it now said _**John**_.

When she woke nothing had changed.

~

She spent two hours getting ready. It would have only taken half that time but then she’d had an unshakable feeling that she should wear her red dress and not the blue, and that had meant she had to redo her makeup to match. 

So she had gone from being very early, to being only sort of early, to not early at all, and if traffic wasn’t kind to her then she may resort to desperate measures. Okay so she wouldn’t drive on the sidewalk but she could dream of being in a Hollywood action movie, couldn’t she? Mercifully the traffic gods were on her side and she pulled into the carpark of the pleasant country manor that Rose and James had hired out for their ceremony with time to spare.

“Oh, that’s nice. You look lovely!” Ellie greeted her as she walked around to the rows of chairs next to the gazebo where the ceremony would take place. 

“Thanks mum.” Clara said, smiling. She sat in the vacant seat beside her father and turned her attentions to the gazebo itself. Large bouquets of pale pink roses framed the front, spilling from vases painted a delicate gold. 

Other than a woman in a simple black dress who she concluded must be the celebrant, the only other person in the gazebo was a tall man with the most beautiful brown hair that Clara had ever seen. That had to be James. He was in animated conversation with the celebrant, hands waving about and hair flopping as he spoke. She had yet to speak to him, but that combined with the dark blue suit and red converse sneakers was enough to tell her that this was the kind of man with whom you never got bored. 

Then piano music started to play and a hush fell over the gathered crowd. Clara turned to see Mickey just starting to walk up the aisle, arm in arm with a beaming Donna. A light pink tie and matching pocket square brightened up the otherwise smart but plain black suit he was wearing. Beside him Donna was simply radiant in a champagne gold dress with lace sleeves down to the elbow that showed off her hips fit for the gods. 

When they reached the gazebo, Donna and James kissed each other’s cheeks and Mickey shook his hand before quickly taking their places either side of the celebrant and looking expectantly down the aisle. Everyone turned again, and Clara felt her breath catch in her chest.

Rose looked absolutely beautiful. She seemed to be floating along in a sleeveless pale pink gown that fitted perfectly at the bodice before billowing out into an airy silk and tulle skirt. Her hair was curled and pinned up in a carefully constructed illusion of untidiness. As she walked past Clara could see that the back of the dress had small delicate fabric roses spilling down from the base of her spine, with several larger ones dotted further down. Pete Tyler was openly crying and Jackie wasn’t faring much better. Both had an arm slipped through Rose’s, while Jackie was cradling Rose’s infant brother Tony in the other. 

Arriving at the gazebo Rose leaned down to kiss her brother on the forehead before allowing her father to do the same to her. Jackie, too overcome with emotion to say much of anything just clutched at Rose’s hand for a few seconds before all three of them took their seats in the front row while Rose continued up to James.

Facing each other, both of their faces seemed to illuminate from within as they held hands and turned to the celebrant. She began with the usual speech about bonds, which Clara knew off by heart as she’d seen it on enough shows and read it in enough books to be able to recite in in her sleep. Clara listened with rapt attention, excitement building when the celebrant took out a small box. 

“Ms Tyler, may Mr Smith and I see your wrist?” The celebrant asked. Clara was a bit confused for a moment until she remembered that Mickey was also a Mr Smith. Rose removed her cuff and showed them both. The celebrant nodded and offered the box to Mickey, who took out a brown leather cuff and handed it to Rose with a smile.

“Mr Smith, may Ms Noble and I see your wrist?” Satisfied with what they saw, the celebrant allowed Donna to take a pink and gold cuff and give it to James.

“As I am legally empowered to do, I have verified the nature of the soulmarks on these two people, with witnesses, and am willing to testify freely that they are soulmates. You may now exchange cuffs.”

Rose held out her left wrist, letting James slide the pink and gold cuff on so that now she had matching ones on each wrist. His brown one took longer, as she had several small straps to tie but soon it was snug against his bond wrist.

“You may now kiss your soulmate.” As soon as she saw them kiss, Clara knew. They were soulmates. There was something tangible, a thread connecting them that she could almost see.

She wondered if that was the biggest difference between a Bond and a Marriage. For soulmates the thread was already there, but for others you had to create it yourself.

The guest broke into thunderous applause and Clara joined them, clapping so hard that her hands stung. The ceremony was the quick bit. For over an hour afterwards James and Rose took photo after photo with guest after guest. Clara found herself being herded over for a photo with Rose and Mickey.

“For old times sake. You were her second pick as witness, you know.” Jackie had said brightly. Clara hadn’t known how to respond to that so she just smiled and nodded. 

“Congratulations to you and your James. You look absolutely gorgeous!” Clara said, as Rose swept her into a hug.

“Thank you, so do you. I love the red.” Rose replied, beaming at her. After the first few photos Clara was already tired but she knew that however she felt, Rose was feeling it a hundred times over so she sucked it up.

“Sorry we don’t have time to catch up just yet, but we’ll talk at the reception yeah?” Rose asked as the photographer finally seemed to be satisfied.

“Of course.”

Mickey and Clara moved away as another group were rounded over for photos.

“Looking good, Mick.” She said, pulling him into a hug.

“Right back at you, lady in red.” He said, squeezing her as tight as he could and lifting her up off the ground. She couldn’t help but laugh as he spun her around and around before setting her gently back on the ground.

“It’s been too long.” 

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to surprise you with a visit but life keeps getting in the way.” Clara knew exactly what he meant. Every time she’d tried to get back down to London to see her parents something had happened that kept her stuck in Gallifrey. This was the first time she’d seen them in the flesh since moving.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Clara commiserated, as a woman in a beautiful plum coloured dress came running over.

“There you are! I thought I’d lost you.” She exclaimed, slipping her arm through Mickey’s and beaming up at him.

“Nah, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Mickey teased, flashing her a warm smile of his own.

“Clara, this is my Martha. Martha, this is one of my oldest friends Clara.” Martha offered a hand. She had a firm, reassuring handshake that put Clara instantly at ease.

“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Clara knew it was meant to be polite but she always felt a tinge of fear at statements like that. Of course people talked about her when she wasn’t there, but it always lingered in her mind that maybe what they were saying wasn’t all that positive.

“Good things, I hope.” She said, forcing herself to smile.

“Only the best.” Martha reassured her. 

“Don’t worry, Clara. I do you justice.” Mickey said, slinging an arm around Clara’s shoulders and pulling her in close.

“Come on, let’s go grab a drink.” The three of them made their way across the lawn and into the reception hall. There was more pink, blue and gold as far as the eye could see. Most of the tables were round with a vase of flowers in the centre surrounded by a string of fairy lights. It was like stepping into a fairy tale. The only odd table out was the bond table, which was a long rectangle. It still only had ten chairs, the same as the round tables, as it was too narrow for seating on both sides. The bar was past the tables, at the side of the room. The rest of the room was clear, set aside as a dance floor for later.

A glass of wine in hand they chatted away, catching up on years apart. As she still lived in London, Mickey had seen a lot of Rose whenever he was home. It made Clara slightly jealous, even though she knew it was her own choice to move to Scotland, away from all her friends and family.

“Her James is lovely. Very funny and a bit geeky but so is my Martha so we fit together well whenever we visit.” Mickey said, when Clara asked about what Rose’s soulmate was like.

“Is there anyone special in your life?” Martha enquired. Clara opened her mouth to tell her that no, there wasn’t, when she saw him walk into the room all eyebrows and glares.

“John.” Somehow that came out instead. He glanced up, expression terse until he caught sight of her. The frown melted away into that familiar, curious countenance she had seen back when they met. Her heart was suddenly too loud and too fast, especially because he seemed to be expecting her to come over.

“Sorry, I just...I work with him.” She apologised to Martha, who shook her head.

“No, you go. We’ll be right.”

“Thanks.” She tried not to make it look like she was rushing, because that would be weird. She’d met this man once, several months ago, and had dreamed about him ever since. Not weird. Not at all. Oh and there was that hair. It was fluffier than she remembered.

“Hello.” It came out far too breathlessly. “Sorry, I don’t know if you remember me. I work at the University.” _Where I literally stepped on you_ , she added mentally.

“I remember you.” He said, simply. 

“Oh. Good.” Fuck, what the hell was she doing? Words were her thing. They were her _job_. Why were they deserting her now?

“I...uh, I thought of calling you. You know, for coffee. But I, uh, wasn’t sure if you’d be interested.” Fortunately he didn’t seem to be having any more luck with them than she did. 

“Yes.” It was far too quick, she knew it was. Apparently she no longer had control of her own mouth. She’d accepted an offer that wasn’t even an offer, all without really thinking about what he was saying. John had wanted to call her. He’d wanted to see her. Maybe she’d left a bigger impression than she’d thought. Or perhaps this was just someone wanting to be friendly with a colleague. Probably that last one. _Keep calm, Oswald_ , she told herself firmly.

“That is to say, I would love to have coffee.” She hoped she sounded a little less...well, desperate. John broke out into a smile and oh god, he could look at her like that forever, she wouldn’t mind.

“Shall we say Monday?” He suggested. 

“Main cafe, 8 o’clock.” She managed to make it sound both confident and casual, even as her insides continued to attempt to stage a coup against her.

“I’ll be there.” He said, slipping into an enigmatic smile. The silence that followed was the most intense she’d ever experienced. There was a weight to the air, rich and heavy, as though there was everything separating them and nothing. Her mind was absolute chaos, screaming contradictions at her. Unsure of what else to do, she downed the rest of her wine.

“Do you want another one? I’ll get you another one.” John said, taking the glass from her hand and crossing over to the bar. It felt like both seconds and years until he came back, passing her the refill.

“You know most people wait for an answer before they run off with someone’s glass.” She didn’t mean it to be chastising, it was more of a joke really, but his head tilted a little and the rest of him just...froze.

“Should I not have done that?” He’s almost childlike in his innocence, genuine confusion written on his face.

“When you ask someone a question, it’s polite to wait for their answer.” She replied. Then, catching sight of his expression she added, “It’s okay. I wanted another drink. Just keep it in mind for next time.”

Next time. _Great job keeping a lid on it, Clara_ , she thought to herself.

“Ah, good. You’ve met. That saves me the introductions.” James materialised out of nowhere, all limbs and hair. Now that she was up close to him she could see the pinstripe on his suit.

“We work together at Gallifrey.” Clara told him. James nodded.

“Yes, I knew you were both at the University. Didn’t know whether you’d have come across each other, being from different departments. You know where you’re seated?” There was a little place card with each setting but Clara hadn’t got around to checking them yet.

“No idea.” John said, sounding vaguely annoyed.

“Well then. Follow me.” It felt like they were following the Pied Piper as he led them past all the round tables and up to the bond party table.

“Wait, why would we be up here?” Clara asked. Normally the bond party table was for the Bonded pair, their parents, their witnesses and the witnesses partners. Clara was none of those things but there she was, at the end of the table next to John, at the opposite end to Jackie and Pete.

“My parents are dead.” James said, seriously.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry.” The apology came automatically.

“No, it’s all right. Happened a long time ago. But that means Johnny boy is the closest family I’ve got.” James threw his arm around John and squeezed him, grinning happily. John, on the other hand, looked as though he’d just been told to eat his own shoes.

“We’re just cousins.” He said, stiffly.

“Yeah, but you’re my only cousin so I’ve got to make the most of you, haven’t I?” 

“Oh, aye. I’ll just go get changed into the family tartan and then we can bring in the bagpipes and do a merry little jig before settling down for a nice bowl of haggis so we’ve got enough energy to hunt down the Loch Ness monster as a family bonding exercise.” John said, acerbically.

“You need to relax. Here, have a banana.” James said, before reaching into his pocket and pulling an honest-to-goodness banana from it. It seemed to come from nowhere. There had been no bulge in his pocket before he revealed it, it was just there all of a sudden.

“You can do magic?” Clara had always loved magic. Every trick told a story, and nothing was more important to her than stories. Even if the only part of the story available to her was ‘suddenly a banana’.

“I dabble.” James said, leaning casually against the table.

“Anyone can do magic.” John said, gruffly. 

“By all means then, go ahead.” James gestured with a sweeping arm. John shifted uncomfortably, looking distinctly like an owl ruffling its feathers.

“I’d rather not.” It was hard to believe the two men were related. Apart from height and great hair, the only thing they seemed to share was an accent. 

Without warning James dropped to the floor, pressing himself into the white tablecloth that went to the floor.

“Don’t look at me.” He whispered, waving frantically at them. “I’m not here.”

Clara frowned, utterly perplexed until she realised that the photographer had just walked in. There was a buzz in the room now, as most of the guests had found their way inside. The photographer was glancing around the room, scanning faces.

“I think someone’s looking for you.” John said, fixing his gaze on Clara so that it would look like he was speaking to her.

“I can’t, John. I’ve been taking photos for hours. Days, maybe. Don’t let him find me.” James pleaded quietly.

“You can go skydiving but you can’t handle a few photos?” It was impossible to tell if John was teasing or being completely serious.

“Are you kidding? When you skydive, you jump out of a plane and a few minutes later you’re on the ground. This never ends. Never. I’ll be posing for photos until I die here. What a terrible way to go.” James said, his entire face and body emoting rather dramatically.

“He’s coming over.” Clara warned. Without a word, James ducked under the tablecloth and disappeared completely.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. You haven’t seen the happy couple have you?” The photographer asked. Clara and John exchanged glances while shaking their heads and talking over each other.

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I have no idea where James is at all.”

“He could be anywhere.”

The photographer eyed them suspiciously but there was nothing he could do. It wasn’t as though they were hiding a fugitive from justice.

“I may as well start photographing guests then. Do you mind if I start with you? Love the outfits by the way. It’s always special when soulmates match.” Clara nearly bit her tongue from the shock. Beside her John made an odd strangled noise, as though someone had just stepped on his foot. 

She had observed everyone’s outfit, it seemed, but John’s. Perhaps she’d been too distracted by that glorious hair to notice that he was wearing a red shirt that was almost an exact match for the dress she was had chosen. She even had a black bolero jacket on that complemented his coat perfectly. They looked as though they had intentionally coordinated.

“Oh.”

“We’re not-” Clara started, stopping when she noticed Rose walk in, spot the photographer, and immediately crouch behind the nearest table. 

“What she means is-” John tried to clarify before he too was distracted by Rose, who had popped just her head above the table and was trying very hard to communicate with hand signals. It wasn’t crystal clear, but Clara thought she understood the gist well enough to know what to do.

“We’d love to.” Clara said, as brightly as she could manage, setting her glass down on the table and grabbing John’s arm tightly. He looked down at her in mild horror. Rose was now making her way through tables, pausing at each one to make sure the coast was clear. Clara pretended to stretch, pushing her free arm above her head. As soon as Rose’s head appeared again, Clara pointed at the rectangular table as best as she could without drawing attention, keeping her arm as high as she could manage. 

“Wonderful. Let’s move you back a few steps, put you against the wall. Clean white background, always good.” The photographer said, motioning for them to start walking. John moved as if he was at gunpoint.

“Relax. It’s a camera, not a gun.” The photographer told him. John shot him such a fierce glare that it was a miracle the camera didn’t burst into flame. Clara took a deep breath and let out as much tension as she could. It was surprisingly easy, as she allowed herself to lean into the warmth of John and smile. With no shutter sound it was impossible to know how many photos were taken, but after what felt like minutes the photographer checked the images he captured.

“Okay, one more but this time maybe you could look a little less like you’re plotting to murder someone.” He instructed, glancing at John.

“It’s those eyebrows.” Clara said, looking up at John and grinning. For a moment he looked hurt but then he seemed to realise she hadn’t intended anything malicious and his whole face softened as he tentatively returned the smile.

“Got it!” The photographer said, letting his camera hang down from its strap. Clara and John’s heads both snapped towards him.

“It’s a great shot. I’ll be uploading everything tonight so they’ll be available to look at from tomorrow morning. Have a good evening.” He explained, before wandering off to find more subjects to shoot.

The table cloth rippled and Clara walked over, bent down and lifted it. Rose and James peered up at her, frozen after having been uncovered so suddenly.

“Oh, it’s just you. Thanks for that. I need a few minutes to breathe. He seems to think we have to be in every shot.” Rose said, letting out a sigh of relief. She was surrounded by volumes of tulle as she curled her legs as close to her chest as she could.

“Any time. You two have fun.” Clara replied, standing up and letting the cloth cover them back up again.

“So,” She said, turning back to John. “What do you want to do now?”

He stared at her, blinking slowly.

“Well my plans for tonight were to get drunk and bitterly ignore everyone.”

“I’m up for the first half of that sentence.” Clara said, picking up her glass and finishing it as easily as she did the first. Then she held it out to him, flashing him her best, most flirtatious smile. “Would you mind getting me another drink?”

She would later remember the next few hours as a blur of drinking. Her parents, Mickey and Martha, the Tylers, Donna and Shaun, and Adam all came up and spoke to her at some point but she couldn’t remember what about. Nor could she recall exactly when Rose and James had emerged from their hiding place only to be immediately accosted for more photos.

“This really is good wine.” She said to John as they sat down, the first course of dinner having just been announced.

“It’s certainly fermented grapes.” John agreed, picking up his spoon. The first course was a small bowl of some kind of broth. All Clara could taste was her wine. The broth was very light and very hot, possibly scalding but she didn’t mind.

“That was lovely.” She said, resting her spoon on the side of the bowl.

“An adequate hot vegetable water.” John concurred. 

A few seats along, Donna was in a very loud conversation with James and Shaun about something to do with a new house. Or maybe it was a horse. Not that it mattered to Clara, she was too busy telling John all about Coal Hill and London. She’d say talking with, but he seemed to be content just to listen to her blabber on about whatever came into her head. Clara would keep talking until the end up time if it meant he kept listening to her with such rapt attention.

A palate cleanser of pear and ginger sorbet managed to rid her of the lingering wine flavour in time for the main course. Most of the guests, Clara included, recieved a plate of twice cooked pork belly. John got a bowl of risotto instead.

“What is that?” She asked jealously. She could see pieces of pumpkin, tomato, and mushroom, and shaved slices of cheese were melted temptingly over the top.

“Vegetarian option.” He told her.

“It looks good.” It looked more than good. Her mouth was watering at the sight of it.

“Do you...would you like to try some?” 

“Yes.” Was all she said before her fork was digging in, not giving a toss how she looked.

“Oh my god, it’s so good.” She moaned, mouth full of rice.

“Here, I’ll put some on your plate.” He said, picking up the bowl and tilting it over her own meal. She cleared a space on her plate, which John obediently filled with risotto.

“Thanks.” She said, tucking in properly.

“You’re welcome.” He murmured, so quietly that it was almost lost in the hum of chatter.

Somewhere between finishing mains and the arrival of dessert, one of them had the great idea of switching to moscato. The sweet, bubbly flavour went surprisingly well with the light, puffy, cinnamon doughnut balls. Her face was warm, and she kept touching John’s arm as she spoke. If he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it.

A clinking sound caught Clara’s attention and she noticed that Rose was standing, tapping on the side of her champagne flute. Soon the room was full of people tapping their glasses and telling the person next to them to shush.

“Thank you, I won’t take long. I promise.” Rose said, beaming her trademark smile.

“On behalf of myself and my James, I’d like to thank you all for making the journey to join us here today to celebrate the recognition of our Bond. Some of you have come a long way, and it means so much to both of us to have your love and support. I’d also like to thank Mickey and Donna for being our Witnesses. You’ve been with us a long time and we think of you as family.” Rose paused to let everyone applaud them before continuing.

“Thanks to the catering staff, the function center staff, our photographer, our celebrant, and everyone else who has been involved in putting this whole thing together.” Another pause.

“And lastly, thank you to my parents for everything they’ve done for me over the past 27 years. I would not be here without you. And to John, for designing the most beautiful cake in history and, coincidentally, this dress.” With that she gestured to the main doors to the room, which opened and a huge, three tiered cake was wheeled in. It was Rose’s dress in cake form. The pale pink fondant swirled around the cake so delicately in a fashion that by all rights it shouldn’t be. It looked impossibly fragile, every decoration thin and precise.

“And yes, before you ask, it’s all edible.” Rose added, clearly pleased with the awestruck reaction. Several mouths were hanging open.

“That looks incredible.” Clara whispered, nudging John.

“Designing it’s the easy part. I didn’t have to make it.” He replied dismissively, although the hint of a smile on his face gave away how much the compliment really meant. Each tier turned out to be a different flavour with chocolate at the bottom, vanilla in the middle, and banana on the top. Clara ended up with a piece of each, which she only managed by claiming that she was going to share them with John.

“We have to share these.” She said, setting the plate in the middle of them. “I told them we would and now they’re watching.”

John glanced up to find that the man who had been in charge of cutting and serving the cake was indeed staring at him.

“That’s just creepy.” He said, taking the second spork from Clara. The cake tasted as good as it looked, moist and sweet and full of flavour. Together they made quick work of the three slices.

“I tried walking past the Politics department again, just on the off chance I’d run into you.” _More like I’ve made that my default route to the campus centre._

“You’d have had a tough time. I was only there visiting a friend. I’m actually in Astrophysics.” Well that explained that.

“Space. Oh I love space. Tell me about space.” She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. John blinked.

“Really?” He sounded like he’d been caught off guard.

“Yes. I had this book on the Solar System when I was a girl. I read it cover to cover so many times the binding started to fall apart. I want to know what you like.”

“Quasi-stellar radio sources. Ever since I first heard about them they’ve captured me in a way that nothing else has.” His face lit up as he talked, telling her about red-light shifts, spectrum emissions, and luminosity. She listened to him with the same intent attention that he had shown her before as he shifted into describing individual quasars and the nature of his studies.

“I’m travelling through time, quite literally, every time I sit down to my research.” There was joy in his eyes that so often seemed angry or sad. He loved this, sharing his passion with a willing audience. She wondered how often he got to do it outside of his classes.

“I can time travel too. I can visit any period I want to, all I have to do is find the right book.” She said. Something changed in his eyes. He was looking at her differently. It wasn’t sad, and it wasn’t angry. It was something else.

“Look at us. Visiting far away places from another time, all without having to take a single step.”  
If only they could do it for real. Step into a book and be whisked off somewhere new, or fly out among the stars. No limitations, everywhere and any time open to them. The beginning of it all, or the last day before time ran out. Making their own stories, writing their own names among the stars.

“I wish I’d been alive when Apollo 11 landed on the moon.” She could watch it whenever she liked. In fact she had, more than once. But it wasn’t the same as experiencing it with all of humanity, witnessing the next step in human exploration.

“I was 11.” John said, softly. It wasn’t hard to picture him as a young boy, wide eyed in front of the television as men left their footprints on a surface that wasn’t their home.

“What was it like?” She was on the edge of her seat, quite literally, and she’s not quite sure when it happened. There was a faraway look in his eyes, as though he was staring right through her to somewhere else. Slowly, he leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her ear.

“Magical.” He whispered. Her heart was racing again, thundering away inside of her

“But it’s got nothing on a banana.” He reached into her hair and pulled out James’ banana. It was so unexpected that Clara burst out laughing, the tension between them melting away. She’d only just stopped laughing when Rose grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet.

“Come on, it’s time to dance.” She said, still dragging her along. Clara reached out her other hand and managed to snare John’s arm before she was too far away.

“Oh no, no, no. I don’t dance.” He said firmly, trying to free himself from her grip.

“You do now. It’ll be fun. C’mon.” She kept tugging at him until he relented.

“Fine.” He grumbled, half stumbling from his seat. “But you’re going to suffer this with me.” He added, seizing Shaun by the back of his shirt and dragging him along with the rest of them.

Clara let herself go, completely surrendering to the music as she swayed and gyrated. It felt like old times, with Rose and Mickey by her side as the rhythm and the melody moved her arms and lifted her feet. The floor slowly began to fill, Martha and Donna coming over to join their partners and other people Clara didn’t know, all moving with differing levels of gracefulness. Clara was particularly interested in how much Donna was tearing up the dancefloor, lip syncing up a storm. James kept nudging John, trying to get him to dance more freely. 

“This isn’t really my kind of music.” John told him, curtly.

“It’s pop music. It’s everyone’s kind of music.” James replied. John did not look convinced.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. There’ll be a change of pace soon enough.” He winked at John, who looked very much like he wanted to set his cousin - or possibly just himself - on fire. 

Something with a slower tempo would be nice. Adam Mitchell was flailing around the floor, arms waving about with no regard for life or limb. His presence on the floor was - by itself - enough for Clara to know that he’d been as liberal with alcohol throughout the night as she’d been. One track faded out and another faded in, but this one was different. Couples began to pair off, hands wrapping around waists and over shoulders. She could see Adam starting to scan the floor for a partner and flashed back to that awful, awkward dance at Mickey’s nameday. That had been a favour for Mickey. It was not going to happen again.

“Dance with me.” She practically hissed, seizing John and putting his hand on her waist. John spluttered out a few protests but fell silent the moment her head pressed against his chest. She could smell his cologne, a warm spicy fragrance intermingled with a scent that was entirely John’s own. At first he moved stiffly, spine rigid as they rotated slowly on the spot. But when she didn’t pull away after the first softer song but stayed close, eyes shut as she breathed him in, he relaxed.

It had been a long time since Clara had felt so good, limbs pleasantly heavy and head buzzing. The whole day had been leading to this moment. At least, it felt that way. This was the only way it could end, slow dancing with the man who wouldn’t leave her dreams.

If she listened closely, she swore she could make out his heartbeat, an elevated da-dum da-dum da-dum. She could kiss him. She _wanted_ to kiss him. Clara lifted her head to find that he was already looking down at her. Their eyes locked and this was it, this was her chance. She stretched her neck up but he leaned back. He was too tall for her to be able to chase him.

“No.” He said quietly.

“Why not?” 

“I won’t kiss you while you’re drunk.” _You’re drunk too_ , she wanted to point out. He’d matched her drink for drink over the night, but with a taller frame and an obviously higher tolerance he wasn’t quite as affected.

“Aww, that’s sweet. ” She murmured, kissing his shirt just above where his collarbone would be instead. It was only after he started frowning that she realised that might be considered weird.

“Am I too drunk for you to keep dancing with me?”

“No.” He murmured. “I’m too drunk to stop.”

It didn’t even make sense. She started giggling, honest to god giggling of the sort she hadn’t done since she was a little girl. He joined her, the pair of them clutching each other for support as they laughed openly, free of any sober inhibitions. If anyone else was staring, that was their problem. Clara didn’t care. This moment was for her and John, no one else.

She wasn’t aware of falling, just that suddenly she was on the ground laughing on her arse with John in a tangled mess of limbs beside her. Getting back up was far more difficult than the way down, and it took her several attempts and a hand from Martha before she managed to stay on her feet.

“Keys.” Martha demanded, after John had also stumbled his way upright.

“They’re in my bag back at the table.” Clara told her. John scowled at her when she repeated the request to him, but gave them to her without a fuss.

“I’m not that drunk.” He protested, quietly.

“Nice try. You’re swaying on the spot, mate. There isn’t a chance you’re capable of driving a car right now and I’m not letting you try.” Martha replied firmly.

“That goes for you too, Boy Wonder.” She said, turning to Adam and holding out her hand. Adam rolled his eyes but had enough trouble remembering where his keys actually were that Clara didn’t think he’d have been a problem.

“Hang on,” He said, after Martha had the keys safely in her possession. “I’m staying with you and Mick. I wasn’t driving tonight anyway.”

“That you only just remembered that is exactly why I don’t trust you with your own safety.” Martha sounded serious but she was also smiling.

“Where are you two staying tonight? We can give you a lift.” She said, turning back to John and Clara.

“I’m going back to my parent’s house.” Clara said. Somehow she’d almost forgotten that she’d organised to go back with them and stay the night, then drive herself back to up to Gallifrey tomorrow. Martha nodded, fixing her quizzical gaze on John. 

“I...well I was planning to sleep in my car.” He mumbled. Martha shook her head.

“Not anymore, you aren’t. There’s a foldout sofa bed at the place we’re staying, you can come back with us.”  
John opened his mouth to protest but swallowed it at the raised eyebrows on Martha’s face.

“Thank you.” He said, stiffly. Martha’s face relaxed and she broke into a grin.

“You’re welcome. Okay, enough of me being a killjoy. You can get back to dancing.” She waved her hands about vaguely, before disappearing off, presumably to fetch Clara’s car keys. The problem was that the mood had been killed. All Clara could think about was that having drunk far more than she intended when she arrived, she was going to be facing an almighty hangover the next day. 

“I need some water.” She said, abruptly turning and making a beeline for the bar. She never heard John say her name, never saw the way he watched her as she hurried off. Water slopped everywhere as she tried to drink it and she knew that she had gone past the point of no return. Tomorrow was going to kill her. Out of the corner of eye she could see her father making his way over.

“Are you okay, hun?” Dave asked her, his concern written all over his face. Part of her wanted to cry. Another part of her wanted to throw up.

“Please take me home Dad.” She said, letting herself be enveloped in a great big hug.

“All right. Your mum’s still having a good time, so we’ll get her to bring your car back, okay?” Clara nodded. The alcohol was really starting to hit her badly. It would be a miracle if she made it home with everything still in her stomach. She managed to find Rose and say goodbye, even letting James give her a farewell hug. But when she tried to find John, he’d vanished.

“He does that sometimes. Don’t worry about it.” James said brightly. His cheeks were very red and he seemed to be moving about a lot to compensate for the fact that he couldn’t stand up properly anymore. Clara doubted she’d be the only one whose liver and head was displeased with them in the morning.

The drive home was quiet as it took all her concentration not to give in to the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. Her father, the wonderful man that he was, didn’t try to start a conversation or tease her for drinking too much. When they got home, nearly an hour later, he silently put a glass of water and a box of paracetamol on her bedside table just as she was getting settled into bed.

“Thanks Dad.” She mumbled, pulling her duvet up to her chin.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He replied fondly, leaning down and kissing her forehead. It felt like mere seconds before she fell asleep.

~

This must be what dying felt like. All the blood in her body was currently rushing through her head so that her skull on the verge of exploding. A hands-and-knees hangover, her dad would call it. If she managed to get out of bed without vomiting, it would be a successful morning. 

With trembling hands she reached out and grabbed the water beside her bed, popped two tablets out of their foil and gulped them down. There were stabbing pains behind her eyes that sunglasses could only take the very edge off. With a permanent grimace fixed on her face she managed to drag herself out of bed, pausing until the room stopped spinning, and slowly shuffled her way to the kitchen.

“Morning sweetheart.” Her mum greeted her. Normally the sound of bacon crackling in a pan would make Clara’s mouth water but today it just made her feel even more nauseous. At least it was better than the frozen meat pies that Adam and Mickey used to heat up and eat after a big night out.

“How bad is it?” Ellie asked, cracking an egg into the hot pan.

“Think graduation, then multiple it by at least 3.” Clara replied blearily.

“That bad, huh? Well there’s Lucozade in the fridge, and getting some food into your stomach will help. You had any ibuprofen yet?” 

“I’m paracetamolled up to my eyeballs.” Clara replied, opening the fridge and grabbing one of the orange flavoured bottles of Lucozade.

“You win this round, Dave.” Ellie said, dramatically shaking her fist in the direction of the main bedroom. It was a constant running joke that they were at war over whether paracetamol or ibuprofen was the best pain killer.

“And I lose. I lose all of the rounds.” Clara said, sitting down at the table and leaning forward until her forehead was touching the wooden tabletop. She stayed that way until her mum brought over a plate of eggs and bacon.

“Eat. As much as you can.” Ellie instructed gently, sitting down to a plate of her own.

“Thanks for this, mum.” Clara said, hacking at a rasher of bacon with a butter knife.

“You’re welcome. I thought you might need it after last night.” Her mum kept looking at her in a significant sort of way.

“What? What is it? You’re giving me that look.” Clara demanded.

“What look?” Ellie said, innocently.

“That look. Why are you looking at me like that?” After a few moments her mother relented, breaking into a smile.

“I was just thinking.” She deflected.

“About?” Clara pressed.

“You. Last night. There was something there. I could see it. Between you and James’ cousin.” Clara started to shake her head but stopped quickly when her body screamed at her in protest.

“We’re just colleagues.” She said, dismissively.

“Ah-ha, and the matching red was just a coincidence?” Her mother was teasing her, she could hear it in her voice.

“Plain and simple.” Clara replied, pretending to be very busy with her breakfast. She was shoveling egg in her mouth far faster than she would have liked but it meant she didn’t have to talk.

“And the way you two were looking at each other, that was just purely platonic and how one normally gazes at a co-worker?” Her mother had one eyebrow raised, eyeing her in the way that Clara had always been afraid of as a child because it meant she thought she knew something.

“Now you’re getting it.” Clara said, mouth full of eggs. Ellie stared at her, even as Clara ducked her gaze.

“Okay.” Her mother might have been suspicious but she knew better than to push her daughter when she didn’t want to talk. 

Clara finished her breakfast in silence before dragging herself off and running a bath. She sat cross legged on the cool, tile floor while she waited for it to fill. Pajamas were discarded in a pile on the floor, before she sank into the hot, soothing water. By now the pain killers were starting to kick in and the throbbing in her head had lessened considerably. She stayed that way until the water went cold and her fingers were wrinkled. For the first time that day she felt like she might still be alive. Refreshed might be an overstatement but she was at least capable of functioning at a basic level.

Dressed in clean, comfortable clothes she got her laptop from her overnight bag and took it into the lounge where she settled herself on the sofa. She typed in the address of the photographer and clicked on the link for the Tyler-Smith ceremony. Thousands of photos slowly loaded, displaying dozens of smiling faces she didn’t know and a couple of dozen that she did. She scrolled down, finding the ones of her, Rose, and Mickey, and passing a really sweet one of James, Donna, and Martha. A shot of James and a clearly reluctant John was enough to send her into a fit of giggles that she couldn’t stop even when a beautiful Tyler family photo appeared on her screen. 

Then she reached the snaps of _her_ and John. Her breath caught in her throat. For the most part, John was glaring at the camera as though he could wish it into non-existence. But the last one...now she knew why the photographer thought he was onto something. There was an undeniably romantic air about them, with the way that John’s expression had softened so completely that he almost looked a different person. As for her own smile? Well, she wasn’t sure she’d even seen herself beaming like that. 

After that, most of the other images barely registered, even the ones of her own parents grinning happily at the camera or Adam Mitchell’s flailing dance style captured in its full glory for all to see. Clara’s face grew warm as she found a shot of her and John dancing. 

She’d barely had a chance to open up a new tab when skype started ringing. The last thing she felt like doing was talking to someone but she answered it anyway. Rose’s face appeared on the screen, bright pink headphones over her head standing out against the grey background of what looked like an airport lounge.

“Hey Rosie.” She said as brightly as she could.

“You aren’t fooling anyone, Clar’.” Rose replied, laughing. “How bad is it?”

“Somewhere between Purgatory and Hell.” Clara replied, rubbing at her forehead.

“I think my bondmate knows how that feels.” The camera moved jerkily as Rose picked up her laptop and angled the camera down at James, who was lying across several seats with his eyes closed.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled blearily. 

“And I’m the Queen of England.” Rose fired back, coming back into view as she settled the computer back in front of her.

“So how long until your flight to Ibiza?” Clara asked. Rose shook her head.

“Not even in Spain yet. Delayed flights. We’ve been stuck here since 5 this morning. I swear, this happens every time I travel with James. Flights are delayed or cancelled, someone falls overboard or manages to break the bus window, or insists on talking to people on a train.” Rose looked significantly down at James.

“I didn’t break a bus window, it popped out. That’s an entirely different thing.” James protested, sitting up and talking directly to the camera..

“Semantics. It still shattered when it hit the road.” Rose replied.

“I’m more interested in the story of how James ended up going overboard.” Clara said.

“Oh, I would love to tell you that tale but _someone_ has forbidden me from ever recounting it because he’s embarrassed.” Rose looked deliberately at James.

“I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t fancy being mocked for a small mistake.” He said, firmly.

“Small mistake? It took three people to save you from drowning. Our first trip away and I genuinely thought I was about to watch you die.”

“I wasn’t going to _die_. I can swim, you know?”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” 

“Look, Clara, all I did was climb over the railing for what was supposed to be a few seconds-” James started to explain before Clara cut him off.

“You _what_?” She exclaimed.

“Like I said, a small mistake.” James said airily, apparently having no trouble reading her lips, stretching his arms above his head and standing up. From offscreen Clara heard something about going to the toilet.

“There’s a reason our first dance song was called Overboard.” Rose said.

“Wait, you didn’t have a first dance!” Clara protested, trying to scan her memory of the night before.

“Yes I did. Which you would know if you hadn’t been too busy drinking and making googly eyes at Mr Eyebrows.” Rose teased.

“I was not making googly eyes.” Clara insisted.

“You totally were. The matching outfits was a nice touch. When’s the ceremony?”

“You sound like my mum. There’s nothing going on between me and John.” 

“Not your name?” Rose queried. Clara shook her head.

“Nope. Not looking for a John.”

“Damn. I was kinda hoping that soulmates had been discovered at my ceremony. It’s supposed to be good luck if it happens.” Rose said wistfully.

“Sorry to disappoint. Besides, we already knew each other so even if we were soulmates, we wouldn’t have been newly found.” Clara said, shrugging.

“You had a good night though, yeah?” Rose asked, seriously.

“If I’m being honest I don’t remember all of it, but what I do remember was great. You looked amazing by the way. Absolutely stunning. I was little bit jealous that I wasn’t getting bonded to you myself.” Clara smiled, giving Rose a lopsided sort of grin.

“Well if things go drastically wrong with my James and I, we could always elope and get married.” Rose feigned a casual shrug.

“You really know how to get a girl to fall in love with you, Tyler.” Clara teased.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t seduced years ago, Oswald.” Rose fired back.

“Damn. I’ve been uncovered. And I’m not even wearing a cape that I can dramatically swish before disappearing into the shadows.” Clara mused, losing herself for a few moments thinking about how good it would be if everyone wore cloaks for theatrical purposes.

“Earth to Clara. Hey.” Rose had brought the camera right up to her face, so close that all that was visible was her nose and one of her eyes.

“Sorry. I was fantasising.” Clara apologised, before hastily adding, “About cloaks.”

“Aw, don’t be going all ‘no homo’ on me just as it’s starting to get fun.” Rose put on an exaggerated pout.

“I am incapable of being no homo. I am always some homo. I’m your tiny bisexual best friend.” Clara replied, grinning.

“And I love you for it.”

“What did I miss?” James asked, sinking back into the seat next to Rose and looking a lot like death warmed up.

“Clara and I plotting to murder you so I get your money and we can run away to the Caribbean where we live off our ill gotten wealth while being very cute and attractive.” Rose replied, gazing at him expectantly, awaiting his reaction.

“Oh. Sounds fun. Personally I’d go Hawaii over the Caribbean but I’ll be dead so it doesn’t matter.” James didn’t miss a beat, firing back in the same fast, slightly teasing tone.

“You look like you’re dead already, mate.” 

“I know, my cheeks are almost yellow. Are you _sure_ I didn’t die last night and I’m not some shambling corpse who just thinks he’s still alive?” James asked, running a hand down his cheek and peering closely at the corner of the monitor.

“It’s okay. I still love you, even if you are a zombie.” Rose leaned into to kiss him, but was interrupted by the Tannoy. 

“That’s us. Oh thank god, finally.” She said, sighing dramatically as James leapt to his feet and started gathering bags.

“Gotta go. See you later, Clara.” The camera shook as Rose stood up, the background blurring nauseatingly. She blew a kiss into the camera, before angling it at James.

“Byeee.” He said excitedly, attempting to wave with a bag in his hand.

“Have fun. Post lots of photos.” Clara managed to squeeze in quickly before Rose ended the call. 

She wished she was going to Ibiza, instead of spending the afternoon driving back to Scotland while fighting a godawful hangover. That was going to suck.

~

It really fucking sucked.


	3. as long as you want me to

Clara arrived early to the campus centre on Monday morning. She told herself it was so that she could get one of the good corner tables away from the high traffic areas, or that she just wanted to squeeze some work in before John arrived. By the time 8 o’clock ticked past, she’d covered the table in books and notepads and pens so that she looked busy to anyone who glanced over at her. Ten minutes later and she was highlighting and scribbling away to try and tamp down the anxiety that was starting to bubble away. At 8:21, when John came striding over and threw himself into the chair beside her, she was hit by such a wave of relief that she couldn’t stop the ‘oh thank god’ from passing over her lips.

“Sorry I’m late.” He said, gruffly. “I slept in traffic.”

“What?”

“I slept in and then I got stuck in traffic.” He clarified.

“Well since you’re the late one, I think you owe me a coffee. Long black, 1 sugar, milk on the side.” She sounded _far_ more confident than she felt but if she gave even a hint of the anxious terror that was whirling about inside of her, she was afraid he might realise that he didn’t want to be around her any more and leave.

John looked at her, blinking slowly several times. Then he got up, walked over to the counter and ordered. The early hour meant there was relatively little activity in the centre, and John was back at the table with coffees in what felt like no time.

“Thank you.” She accepted her drink with a grateful smile. 

“So, what’s the plan for this week, Miss Clara?” John asked, settling himself in to the chair beside to her.

“All of my classes are reading Pride and Prejudice so I’ll be getting a keen insight into what opinion each of my students has on Bonding and Marriage. I expect they’ll be all right with Jane and Bingley, and Darcy and Lizzie. It’s what they have to say about Lydia and Mr Wickham that I’m worried about. My Coal Hill kids missed a lot of what Austen is trying to say about relationships. I’m just hoping that the APHSS students will pick up on it a little more clearly.” Clara replied, tipping the milk into the coffee and stirring.

“What about you, Professor Smith?” 

“Well, my first years will be looking at telescopes. How they work, how they’re built, all that lovely maths. My second years are also in the middle of a technical stage, studying CCD’s...erm, charge-couple devices. We use them in astrophotography and other instrumentation. But my third years, oh they’re up to the good stuff. Paradoxes.” He half whispered the word, voice heavy with reverence.

“Oh, that sounds interesting. Try explaining one to me.” Clara exclaimed, leaning forward eagerly. John stared at her stiffly for a few moments before he started telling her about something called the Ladder Paradox. It was unlike anything that Clara had ever heard of. She knew about paradoxes like the Liar’s Paradox, or the Ship of Theseus, or the Unexpected Hanging. She even thought understood them. But this...she didn’t even know what most of the words he was using _meant_. Clara had heard people talk about special relativity, but didn’t have a clue about what it included. 

“The paradox is resolved when you realise you’ve made the mistake of assuming that both events are happening in simultaneity.” John concluded.

“Oh. I see.” 

“You have no idea what I just said, do you?”

“Nope. Haven’t the foggiest. Sorry.” She admitted. 

“Where did I lose you?” 

“The bit after you told me there was a ladder and a garage.” Then, seeing the crestfallen expression on his face, she added, “I want to understand, there were just a lot of new words. Maybe it’ll help if you draw a diagram?”

She pushed one of her notepads towards him and passed him a pen. For the first time since meeting him, Clara could suddenly see exactly why John had become a professor. In spite of his grumpy, aloof exterior, he had that rare gift that only great teachers had. He could explain something twice, and make the second demonstration completely different to the first. 

“I think I’m actually seeing it this time.” Clara said, after he sketched out several little drawings and dulled down his language so that she could understand it as a layperson.

“I’m...I’m sorry. You were so enthusiastic, I forgot that you weren’t one of my third years.” John said, quietly.

“I’m glad I’m not, or our behaviour at the soul ceremony the other night would have been highly inappropriate.” There it was. She’d given voice to the elephant in the room. John froze, eyes deliberately downcast and staring at his diagrams.

“I didn’t intend to take advantage-” He began slowly, but Clara was quick to cut him off.

“Oh, no. No, no, it was fine. I liked it. It was nice.” She clarified. John glanced up at her, unsure.

“I wouldn’t change any of it. It was wonderful. Well, except for the bit where I woke up with a worse hangover than man has ever known before.” She reassured him.

“So if I was to ask if you wanted to meet me here, same time next week, that would be okay?”

“Yeah.” Clara answered, breaking into a broad grin. “That’d be fine.”

~

Somehow she had found herself a routine. Monday morning coffee with John started her week, and Friday night drinks with Donna and Danny closed it out. The worst part about having such a predictable schedule was that she found herself _looking forward_ to Mondays because it meant she would have an hour with John, all to herself. She couldn’t imagine starting a week without him. It was practically sinful.

~

The first semester rolled by in what felt paradoxically like the blink of an eye and almost an eternity. Clara went back to London for the break, catching up with Mickey, Martha, James, Rose and Adam for a very long lunch. It was fun and enjoyable to be back home but all too soon she was back in Gallifrey on the first Monday of the new semester. She was almost finished her coffee, having chattered away about what her plans for exams were when John suddenly spoke.

“Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” It was clear that this was something he had been stewing over for a while. There was a rehearsed feeling to his voice that couldn’t be masked by the feigned casualness.

“I’d love to. Where were you thinking?” 

“We only have two good restaurants, so it’s either Italian or Jack’s.” John pointed out. Clara thought about it for a few moments.

“I don’t really feel like pasta, so Jack’s.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at 7.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

~

A car horn sounded outside her house at exactly 7. She peered out the window and saw John behind the wheel of an old blue Bentley saloon.

“Oh, my dad would love you.” She said, sliding into the passenger’s seat. The inside was beautifully maintained and felt spacious in a way that cars never did anymore. Her Corolla felt like a toy next to this wonderful piece of engineering. 

“Did you meet my Mum and Dad at the wedding?” Clara asked, unable to remember herself. John nodded.

“We were introduced.”

“Dad’s mad about cars. In a club and everything. No room at our house for his tools so he leaves it at my uncle’s house in Blackpool and goes up once a month to mess about. I think they’re working on a Mini Cooper at the moment. Named it Jerry. Dad and Uncle Harry always name their cars but Jerry for a Mini Cooper is _ridiculous._ ” Clara said, as John drove off from the kerb.

“How about TARDIS for a Bentley Saloon?” He asked. She glanced over at him, trying to figure out if he was serious.

“Tardis? Where’d that name come from?”

“It stands for Totally Awesome Really Damned Incredible Saloon.” He replied, completely deadpan. Clara laughed.

“Now I _know_ you’re pulling my leg.” She said, smiling.

“I’m not!” He protested. “It’s her real name. A perfectly respectable, ordinary name.”

“It’s not Jerry so I guess I have to give you points for that.” Clara conceded.

“Of course it’s not Jerry. Jerry is a man’s name and the TARDIS is a woman.” John replied.

“Are you in love with your car?” Clara asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“She’s a fine piece of engineering, aren’t you Sexy?” John said, stroking the dashboard fondly.

“Okay, getting weird. You are being weird. That’s weird.” Clara told him. 

“Weird is my middle name.” He said, seriously.

“Not Danger, then?” She asked. John scoffed.

“Of course not. That would be silly.”

They arrived at Main Street and were lucky enough to find a free parking space just outside the entrance to Jack’s. 

It had a glossy, flamboyant appeal to the outside with its rich black beams and dark glass that was impenetrable from this side at night. The inner decor was luxurious and walked on the edge of that delicate line between classy and tacky, just restrained enough to be tasteful but far from minimalistic.

“Good evening, welcome to Jack’s. You’re looking good John. I see you’ve brought a lady friend with you. You looking awfully good as well, Miss.” A man greeted them as they walked in, his accent far lighter than John or James or anyone other Scot she’d met so far. He winked at each of them in turn and from most people it would have creeped Clara out but somehow he just made it seem like a bit of fun.

“Enough with the accent, Jack. You don’t have to impress me, I know you.” John told him.

“You do, the lovely lady next to you doesn’t.” Jack replied slipping smoothly into a full American accent without so much as blinking.

“Okay, what is happening?” Clara asked, as Jack flashed her a flirtatious grin. 

“I was born here but moved to the US when I was six. Locals aren’t so keen on Uncle Sam so I use my childhood accent to make them feel more comfortable.” Jack explained as he walked them to their table, a cosy little corner booth with a reserved sign set on it.

“It’s absurd. You’re letting them dictate the very words that come out of your mouth.” John said, eyes wide and hands animated. Jack shook his head, laughing. 

“It’s good business sense, Johnny boy.” He replied, winking again. This caused John to flounder, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to come up with a response.

“I want a menu.” He said, eventually, sounding just a tiny bit flustered. 

“Of course.” Jack said, handing out the menus and putting a wine list on the table facing Clara. “You’ll have your usual, presumably, so is there anything I can help you with, Miss I-Still-Don’t-Know-Your-Name-Because-John-Hasn’t-Introduced-Us?” He gave Clara another one of his utterly disarming smiles. There was no way they could possibly be his real teeth, perfectly straight and impossibly white.

“I’m Clara. Clara Oswald.” She told him, offering her hand for him to shake. Instead he gently took it and brought it up to his lips.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Clara Oswald. I’m Captain Jack Harkness.”

“You’re in the military?” Clara asked.

“I was, until I was pretty much begged to retire by my Ianto.”

“Do you mind me asking what happened?” Clara queried curiously.

“Survived a few things I probably shouldn’t have and Ianto could see me slipping away from him. He’s always been far more cautious than I, but he had a point and being apart for so long was starting to take its toll on me so I knew it was time. You want to meet him? He’s the handsome young fella behind the bar.” Jack turned to the bar across the room and waved at the tall and admittedly attractive dark haired man behind it. Ianto returned the wave with a small smile before busying himself with the drinks he was preparing. At the mention of Ianto, John had relaxed and now had his menu open in front of him although he was obviously listening to the conversation rather than perusing it as he wished to appear to be.

“Have we decided on a drink, Miss Clara Oswald, or should I give you a few minutes?” Jack asked her.

“Oh, right.” Clara said, snatching the wine list off the table and scanning it. 

“That one, please.” She said, pointing to an Italian red that she didn’t even want to try pronouncing.

“All right, I’ll get those drinks on their way and then I’ll come back and get your food orders.” He gave them both another beaming grin before sauntering off to the bar.

“He’s nice.” Clara said, once he was out of earshot.

“Yeah.” John replied, absently staring after Jack.

“Do you like him?”

“No.” It was an automatic response.

“Liar.” Clara said, smiling. John avoided her gaze as Jack returned.

“So, what can I get for ya?” John ordered first, requesting the vegetarian curry. Clara um’d and ah’d for another minute before finally deciding on a steak and chips. She returned Jack’s playful smile and then he was gone, leaving her and John on their own. 

By some miracle, they managed to avoid talking about work for the most part. Dinner came and went, the curry hot and the steak tender and juicy. Although John had insisted that he didn’t want any, he had eventually caved and began to share the chips left on Clara’s plate that he had been eying off for the entire meal. 

“I was thinking of going to see that new movie set on that moon of Neptune.” She said, picking up a chip.

“War on Triton.” John supplied. Clara nodded as she took a bite.

“That’s the one. Did you want to come with me?” John gazed over at her, eyes widening slightly.

“I’m an astrophysicist. We’re not known as being fun to take to movies about space. We tend to pick holes in the science and ruin it.” He explained. Clara began to laugh.

“I’m an english teacher. We pick holes in _everything_ and ruin it.” She replied, grinning at him. John continued to look at her uncertainly for a few moments.

“Okay, fine. I’ll go with you to War on Triton.” He sighed, sounding more like a soldier surrendering himself to the opposition than someone accepting an invitation to the cinema.

“Great! I’ll look up session times and we’ll figure out when we’re going to go on Monday. Isn’t it nice doing things with friends?”

“Yeah.” John replied slowly, an odd sadness creeping into his voice. “I love doing things with friends.”

He remained in a sombre mood even as he dropped Clara home. Clara went to bed unable to make heads or tails of the sudden swing.

~

John was back to his usual self by the time Monday morning coffee rolled around, blaming a headache on his doleful attitude after dinner. After consulting their calendars and the available session times, they settled for 8:30pm on Saturday. For the rest of the week Clara found herself focusing excitedly on the film, using it whenever she found herself struggling to pull through anything particularly tedious or difficult. Danny picked up on it, of course, but he was polite enough not to tease her about it. She was thankful that she didn’t have to talk to Donna that week, because she had ways of sniffing out even the barest hint of gossip and hunting it down until she’d dug up the whole tasty story. 

“So what are your plans for the weekend?” Donna asked at their regular Friday night drinks.

“Got a bit of marking that I need to do, then I’m going to see War on Triton tomorrow night.” Clara replied, as casually as she could. The gears turning in Donna’s head were almost audible, and Clara knew that a question about who she was going to the movies with was about to follow.

“Lucky you. My sister is bringing her new boyfriend up to meet me and I’m pretty sure they’re going to tell me that they’re soulmates.” Danny said, jumping in before the interrogation could begin. Donna’s eyes lit up and Danny found himself facing the Inquisition. When she got the chance, Clara mouthed thank you at Danny. He acknowledged her gratitude with a smile.

~

The film was objectively terrible. A hackneyed script and rushed direction meant that the actors floundered in a sea of mediocrity. John took great delight in detailing every single error in the physics.

“You couldn’t oxygenate Triton’s atmosphere by extracting it from water. There’s not enough water ice for a start, and then you have to contend with a lack of water. Not to mention the sheer amount of energy required to produce that much oxygen. Did they consult _anyone_ before giving that script the okay? Even a chemist would have been able to tell them they were leaving reality a very long way behind.” He muttered away as they climbed back into his car.

“I can’t believe they didn’t even try to give a motive for either side fighting. So many explosions, such little exposition.” 

“That’s for the best. What exposition they did give was as easy to swallow as a handful of sand.” Clara burst out laughing.

“ ‘As easy to swallow as a handful of sand’. I’ll have to remember that one. It’s good.” She said, smiling across at him. He returned the smile, looking rather pleased with himself.

“So, I’m taking you home then?” He asked, starting up the car. Clara shook her head.

“No.”

“What?” John spluttered, turning to stare at her in surprise.

“I want to go to the lake.” She replied simply.

“Okay.” John said, nodding. “Let’s go to the lake.”

They arrived at the lake a short while later. Clara naturally got out of the car and headed straight through the carpark towards the bank. It wasn’t until John caught up to her, picnic rug in hand that she noticed he wasn’t beside her.

“Oh god, you’re just like my dad. He always has a rug in the back of his car, no matter what.” The words left her mouth before she realised that John might not appreciate the comparison.

“Sorry.” She said, quickly.

“It’s fine.” John replied dismissively as he spread the rug out on the grass. They lay down on the rug and gazed up at the sky, stars twinkling merrily everywhere they looked.

“Why do stars twinkle?” Clara asked after a few minutes of silent contemplation.

“As light passes through the atmosphere, it gets refracted. Because the atmosphere is turbulent, light is defracted in multiple ways that make the star seem to be shifting where it is and how bright it appears.” She loved the way he explained things to her. Her curiosity always seemed to spark something inside of him and for a few moments he would make her feel like she was the only important thing in the universe.

“See that?” He said, pointing at one of the pinpricks of light. It was one of the brightest in the sky, low to the horizon.

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why it isn’t twinkling like the rest of them?” She glanced from star to John, and back to the star again. 

“No.”

“It’s Jupiter.” He told her as if it was a complete answer.

“Why doesn’t Jupiter twinkle?” Clara questioned, frowning up at the planet.

“Because it’s so close, it’s large enough that the effects of atmospheric diffraction are diminished.” She looked back at John and realised that he had been watching her as she gazed upwards.

“You’re adorable when you get all sciency.” She said, reaching out for his hand and slipping her fingers through his. John gave her a small smile.

“I try.” He said, squeezing her hand. Clara shifted until she was pressing against him, head resting on his shoulder. They stayed that way for over an hour, lapsing into a comfortable silence that John broke every now and then to point out some other object he thought might interest her. It was only after Clara actually fell asleep (the rhythmic sound of water washing up against the lake’s edge had been the final straw) that John declared the night over, driving her home and walking her to her door.

“Thanks for tonight. It was wonderful.” She said, stifling a yawn.

“A rubbish film and listening to me babble on damp grass. Every woman’s dream date.” Clara raised her eyebrows.

“I wasn’t aware this was a date.” She said, only half teasing.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t. We’re not-” John scrambled to cover himself but Clara silenced him by holding up her hand.

“I was joking. It’s okay, John. You don’t need to panic. I had a good night. Hopefully you did too. That’s that, now I’m going to go to bed and I’ll see you on Monday morning. Goodnight John.” She stretched up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Clara Oswald.” He responded, so soft that he was barely audible. Then he was gone, walking back to his car and leaving her to head off to bed. That night she dreamed that she was a mermaid, swimming in the depths of the lake. The name on her arm dissolved in the water, black inky tendrils slowly diffusing into the water. She rose to the surface so that she could look at the stars, but one of them was falling. It kept falling, speeding towards her and she realised that it was Jupiter. She held up her hand to shield her face as it crashed into the ground beside the lake, not noticing that it was both absurdly small and made quite wrongly of rock. The fire seared into her arm but when she looked at it, there were no burns. Just a new soulname. _**John**_.

When she woke up her wrist tingled, the pain from the dream made real. She checked just to be sure, but _**Doctor**_ still taunted her.

~

Somehow it had become routine to see John twice a week. First on Monday morning, as usual, then again on a Thursday or Saturday night. After a few weeks they ran out of places they wanted to go and suddenly John was regularly coming over to Clara’s _house_ so that they could have dinner together.

“Do you remember that first time we had coffee?” John asked, suddenly. Clara looked up from the pile of essays that she was marking at the kitchen bench.

“Uh, sure.” She said, warily.

“Do you remember how I said I was late because I slept in and got stuck in traffic?” He continued.

“Yeah.” She tilted her head, frowning curiously at him.

“That was a lie.” 

“I know.”

“What?” He seemed to be genuinely shocked.

“It was incredibly obvious. I mean, you Scott Pilgrimmed an excuse for one. That and we don’t have traffic in Gallifrey.” She explained.

“We have plenty of traffic in Gallifrey.” John protested.

“Yeah. At ten to 9 when all the students make a desperate dash for the Uni. Not at 8.” Clara pointed out.

“I didn’t intend to lie to you. The truth is I wasn’t sure I should go. I was afraid that there might be some boundary that I was overstepping. You’d had a lot to drink at the reception and we didn’t part on the highest of notes. I wasn’t sure you’d still want to see me.” Clara could almost picture him, debating with himself whether or not to go. She made her way out from behind the bench and took the few steps needed to close the gap between them.

“I will let you know if you are crossing a boundary. It will be very clear. I’m glad that you are watching for signs that I’m uncomfortable or upset. That’s great. But you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I won’t break and you won’t push me away with one mistake. I like you, John. I enjoy your company. I trust you and I hope you’ll trust me to make the best decisions for me.” She reached up and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are we okay?” He asked, uncertainly. Clara smiled up at him.

“Yeah, John. We’re okay.” Then, just for good measure, she pulled him into a hug. He tensed for a moment before relaxing, awkwardly patting her on the back with one hand.

“Good. That’s good. Cup of tea?”

~

It seemed like such an ordinary day. A good day, even. She marked 14 essays, chased up two students who were late on assignments, and even managed to order lunch exactly when a fresh batch of chips had been tipped into the warming tray. There were no ominous clouds, no rain, no walking under ladders or breaking a mirror. There was neither sight nor sound of a black cat. Nothing to warn her about just how terrible her day was about to become until she got the call from her dad.

“Hey dad, I’m a little busy now. Do you mind if I call you back in a bit?” She asked brightly. There was a slight pause and that was the first time that she felt something was about to go horribly wrong. She could hear it in her dad’s breathing. It was catching ever so slightly, as though…

“Clara.” He managed to get out and she knew. 

“You’ve been crying.” She said. Her heart was beating faster and her hands were doing that awful tingly thing they did whenever she started getting anxious.

“Yeah.” And that by itself was enough to make Clara’s blood run cold. Dave Oswald was not the sort of man who was open about expressing negative emotions. He was either happy or he was fine.

“Are you okay?” Clara asked, tentatively. 

“I’m good. It’s...It’s your mum. There’s been an accident.” The phone slipped from her hand, its fall broken by her lap. Danny turned from his desk to look at her.

“Is everything all right?” He asked her, gently, as she fumbled to pick her phone back up. Clara didn’t have the words so she just shook her head as she put the phone back to her ear.

“How bad?” She didn’t want to know and yet she needed to. Danny reached out his hand and she took it, blinking back the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her.

“Hit and run. 40 miles an hour. They’ve put her in a medically induced coma. I’ll be honest with you, Clara. No one knows what her chances are. There’s a lot of damage and-” Dave had valiantly resisted, his voice cracking but it finally gave on him. 

“Where is she?” Clara tried to pretend that she couldn’t hear the tears flowing. It hurt too much knowing that there was nothing she could do while she was sitting here in a different city, in a different country.

“Royal London.” He audibly choked back tears. It was a knife to her heart.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“Drive safe, sweetheart.” He didn’t tell her not to come, and for that she would be forever grateful. It would have been easy, for him to pretend that she needn’t be worried, that this was something that could be put off like a trip to the beach when it looked like rain. It was Dave’s subtle way of telling her that he needed her, that this was too much for him to handle by himself.

“I will Dad. I promise.” She squeezed Danny’s hand just for something to do. It must have been painful but he didn’t even wince.

“I love you.” 

“I know Dad. I love you too.”

She felt numb. Actually numb, from her toes to her fingertips. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll cover you. Go be with your Mum and Dad.” Danny said. She couldn’t look at him. That would mean that he could see her. She didn’t want to be seen, not when she felt so raw.

“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” She said, suddenly launching herself to her feet and busying herself with grabbing her coat, bag, and anything else she might need. It didn’t strike her how frantic she was until Danny put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“Hey. There’s nothing to make up. I’m your friend, Clara. I care about you. Now, how about you take a minute and clear you head before you go jump behind the wheel of a car for a seven hour journey.” She nodded, and managed to stand still for almost half a minute before it was too much. Scooping up her things she dashed from the room, deliberately not giving Danny the time to say anything else. 

Somehow on the way to her car she made a different decision and found herself climbing the stairs of the physics department instead. Her hands shook as she knocked on John’s door, her legs threatening to give out beneath her if she stood still for too much longer. There was movement in the office, before the door flung open to reveal John’s frowning face. His expression softened as soon as he realised who it was, though the awkward hunch of his shoulders remained.

“You’ve been crying.” It was more of an observation than anything else.

“I’m fine.” She said automatically. That fact this was mirroring her conversation with her father was not lost on her. John stared at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“You don’t look fine. There’s too much black smudged around your eyes.” He replied after a few seconds of silence. That was enough for the tears to begin anew. She hated this. Vulnerability. For her whole life she’d tried to pretend that it didn’t happen to her, that she was never anything less than calm and composed and in control. But she couldn’t keep up the act today.

“My mum. She was in an accident and it’s bad. Really bad.” Without turning, John reached behind the door and grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he closed the door behind him.

“Okay. Let’s go.” He said, starting down the corridor. His office door opened again and a middle aged woman with the highest cheekbones that Clara had ever seen poked her head out.

“Where do you think you’re going? We were in the middle of a conversation.” She protested, putting her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrows.

“What? It’s an emergency. I’ve got to go.” He replied, seemingly confused that this was an issue.

“So you were just going to disappear on me without so much as a by your leave?”

“...Yes.” He admitted hesitantly. The woman rolled her eyes, striding forward passed him until she reached Clara. She stuck out her hand.

“I know who you must be for him to drop everything like this. You’re Clara. My name is Missy. I guess you could call me John’s best friend.” She said, flashing Clara an odd, leering smile.

“It’s nice to meet you Missy. Do you work here?” She slipped into autopilot, not really consciously steering herself through the conversation.

“I do. Usually you’ll find me over in the Politics department being harassed by 18 year olds who seem to have confused me with someone who actually gives a toss what they think.”

“Oh, so you’re the friend that John was meeting with on the day I first ran into him.” Clara exclaimed. Missy bowed her head.

“Aye. That would be me. I’ve never stopped hearing about you since. Clara this, Clara that. Clara, Clara, Clara. You’d think he’d married you.” She glanced over at John, eyes sparkling keenly.

“She makes me feel less lonely Missy, like she understands me in a way that no one else does.” She added, adopting an odd low growling tone in an attempt to mimic John’s voice. 

“Okay, that’s enough. Back into the office you go.” John said, hurrying forward and grabbing her by the arm as she continued to imitate him. 

“Goodbye Missy.” He said, closing the door in her face. Muffled laughed rang out but she didn’t open the door again.

“Where were we? Your Mum! Well, assuming she was in London when the accident happened, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us. So we’d better get moving.” John said, as he turned back to face Clara.

“We?” 

“Of course. Isn’t that why you came to tell me?” He stopped, a confused frown settling on his face.

“I…” What _had_ she been expecting? Not this, apparently. A sudden rush of gratitude surged through her and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buried her face in his chest to hide the fresh wave of tears.

“You didn’t really think I’d be so cruel as to wish you good luck and send you on your way, did you?” His voice was kind and warm, as he enveloped her in a hug. One of his hands came up to stroke the back of her head, soothingly.

“I wasn’t really thinking at all.” She admitted.

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve got me to drive you then.” John said, letting her pull away. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. John reached into his pocket and pulled out a travel pack of tissues, handing them to her without a word.

“Thanks.” She accepted the tissues gratefully, dabbing at her eyes until the tissues stopped coming away black. “What else have you got in those pockets of yours? A hat stand?”

“I’ ve got mints, a pen, some safety pins, sticking plasters, a pack of playing cards, matches, spare batteries, jelly babies, binoculars, a foldable screwdriver set and most likely some money somewhere.” He listed off rapidly, as they headed to his car.

“Are you an astrophysicist or Mary Poppins?” 

“Who says Mary Poppins _isn’t_ an astrophysicist?” John asked, tapping the side of his nose knowingly. She climbed into the front seat of his old Bentley, tossing her bag into the back seat and buckling herself in. For the first few hours they passed the time chatting away about anything and everything that wasn’t family related. But as they drove through the North of England, Clara found it harder and harder to keep it up. By the time they passed the turn off to Blackpool, where she’d spent the early years of her life, she was rendered nearly mute with fear. 

Clara had been scared before. She’d been a curious child and it had gotten her into trouble more times than she could possibly remember. But nothing had ever been quite like this. This all consuming, ice cold dread that had settled deep in the pit of her stomach, twisting tighter every time she remembered where they were going and why. John seemed to understand, driving along in sympathetic silence.

Every road sign they passed with the distance to London caused Clara’s heart to feel like it was skipping a beat in her chest. Upon entering London itself, her hands grew so tense that she couldn’t relax them, fingers involuntarily curling inwards. By the time they arrived at the hospital, the sky dark and gloomy, her stomach was churning. Saliva built up in her mouth faster than she could swallow it, doing nothing to stave off the nausea that seemed certain to overwhelm her.

The walk from the car park to the hospital’s reception seemed to take forever, as everything had an ethereal, dream-like quality.

“I’m looking for my mum, Eleanor Oswald. Where can I find her?” Her voice sounded distant, floating somewhere that wasn’t _here_. It didn’t feel like it belonged to her.

“Eleanor Oswald is in 4E. Take the lift up to level 4, the signs will guide you to the ward’s reception. Please use sanitizing gel before entering the ward, and keep noise to a minimum.” The clerk told her, after consulting her computer. While waiting for the elevator to arrive, John and Clara used the gel next to the doors to clean their hands. There was a ding, and the doors opened. They stepped inside, pressing the button for the fourth floor. As the doors slid closed, Clara caught sight of her own terrified reflection, pale and drawn. She glanced across to John’s reflection to find that he was watching her. He gave her a warm smile.

“You’re going to be okay. You will get through this.” He said, firm in his reassurance.

“Yeah.” She said, unconvinced. He reached out and offered her his hand, squeezing gently when she accepted. A female voice with received pronunciation announced that they had arrived at the fourth floor.

The doors opened and Clara was hit with the powerful smell of sterile cleanliness. Following the signs, they made their way into E ward. Clara was about to ask the ward clerk what room she was looking for when she saw her dad making his way down a corridor, mug of tea clutched in his hands.

“Dad!” She said, just loudly enough to get his attention.

“Clara! You made it, sweetheart!” It took every ounce of restraint that she possessed to stop herself from sprinting over to him and throwing her arms around him, mug of tea be damned. Instead, she walked over as calmly as she could muster, drawing him into a one-armed pseudo hug

“How is she?” Clara asked, following her father until he turned into a room. Her mother was lying on an uncomfortable looking bed, a scary array of tubes trailing from her to various instruments. Clara gasped at the sight of her. Unable to hug her, she settled for running a hand through Ellie’s hair.

“She’s got a fractured knee, a broken tibia, two cracked vertebrae, bruising on the ribs, a hairline crack on the shoulder blade, a dislocated elbow, and swelling on the brain. Obviously it’s the swelling that’s got the Docs really worried.” Dave explained, before he noticed John and fell silent.

“You remember John, don’t you Dad?” Clara said, absently.

“Ah yes. You were at Rose and James’ Ceremony. How are you?” The switch from fatherly to professional was so smooth that if the situation wasn’t so serious Clara would have laughed.

“I’m good. Sorry about your Ellie.” John replied, softly.

“Thank you. She’s a tough fighter though. She’ll come back from this.” Dave said as though willing himself to believe it. They sat there for a while, making light conversation. Clara asked about her grandparents, Dave asked about the trip down. They sent John off on tea duties, and he had just come back with three mugs expertly carried in his long fingers when a Doctor swept into the room.

“David Oswald?” She asked, glancing between Dave to John. Her voice had a distinctive american twang.

“Yes. That’s me.” Dave said, taking a step forward. 

“I’m Doctor Holloway. We’ve got the results of the scans.” She explained before she trailed off, looking apprehensively at Clara and John.

“I’m Clara. Ellie is my Mum. He is…” She hesitated. If she told the truth - that John was her sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend - then he would have to wait outside. Right now she didn’t think she couldn’t handle facing this without him.

“He’s my John.” Three faces turned to stare at her, Dr Holloway’s eyes flickering down at Clara’s bare bond arm. Suspiciously, she turned to turned to Dave, who nodded his confirmation. 

“Okay.” Dr Holloway, clearly not sold on the lie but not willing to openly challenge it either. She showed them a set of scans and began to explain what they showed.

“As you can see, there’s a dark patch on the left. That’s a tumour, pressing on the brain.” 

“Oh my god.” Clara said, looking at the ominous shadow with abject horror.

“If we operate now, there’s an excellent chance of a full recovery. In a way, she’s lucky. If she hadn’t been in the accident, we probably wouldn’t have discovered the tumour for months. Years, even. By then, it could have been too late to do anything about it.” Dr Holloway concluded. What followed was a very tense, tear-filled discussion over whether they should give the medical staff the go ahead to operate. Clara cried, Dave gave voice to his fears and also cried, then Clara vocalised _her_ concerns, while John stood sentinel in the corner looking extremely uncomfortable throughout the whole thing. Finally they agreed that the surgery was the best option and Ellie was booked in for an emergency operation.

“Go home, sweetheart. Get some sleep.” Dave said.

“What about you?”

“I couldn’t, even if I tried.”

“Then what makes you think I can?” She felt utterly worn out, but she knew herself well enough to know that physical exhaustion was not enough to guarantee sleep. Dave sighed.

“You’re right. But can you at least try for me? There’s no point in both of us being a tired wreck tomorrow.” It was past midnight. Clara wanted to point out that tomorrow was already here but it would be petty and ultimately pointless.

“Okay. I’ll go home, if it will make you happy.” She conceded. Her dad pulled her into a hug.

“It will. I love you so much, Clar.” He said, squeezing her tight. 

“I love you too, Dad.”

The drive to her parent’s house went in the blink of an eye. John kept looking at her like there was something he wanted to say, but he remained silent. He seemed to be waiting for her to break the ice. When they arrived, John opened the boot, pulling out an overnight bag.

“Oh you are kidding me.” Clara said, as he trotted up the stairs after her.

“What?” He asked, defensively. “I was a scout. Be prepared, that’s my motto.”

“I guess that explains the pockets full to bursting, and the picnic rug.” Clara replied, unlocking the door and walking inside. She took her time getting ready for bed, letting a hot shower soothe and relax her muscles. Her old pajamas still fit, thankfully, and her bed was still firm but comfortable. After trying to convince him to sleep in her parents bed and failing, John ended up dragging the thin, foam mattress from underneath her bed and setting it up with sheets and blankets. 

He looked ridiculous, lying there and staring at the ceiling, unblinking and unmoving. John, it seemed, didn’t go to sleep like most people. Even as Clara tossed and turned, never managing to find a position comfortable enough that she could switch her brain off and go to sleep, the only sound coming from the floor was John’s steady breathing. Minutes crept past. The first of the little red numbers on the clock beside her bed went from 1 to 2, then on to 3. Clara doubted that this even qualified as resting. Her mind was a broken record, replaying the day’s events over and over with no respite or relief.

“John?” She called out tentatively.

“I’m awake.” Came the instant reply. Clara took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Will you spoon with me?” She expected a question, a squawk of protest or something. Instead a silent shadow appeared over her bed and she looked up into John’s curious face. She moved over so that he could slip in beside her, turning so that she could snuggle into the warmth of his chest. Everything else stopped. The world shrank until it was only this bed at this moment, two hearts beating, two pairs of lungs breathing. John’s arms encircled her, armouring her against the bad thoughts that kept flitting through her brain. She rolled over so that they were face to face, lifting her head so that she could see him, could look into his eyes. It felt as though she’d lived this moment before.

She leaned in slowly, giving him the chance to pull away. But he didn’t. Her lips pressed against his, gently at first, but growing more and more desperate as she began to pour all the emotions she had been bottling up that day into the kiss. John met her with enthusiasm.

Gone was the hesitance and the uncertainty that had cropped up so often during their friendship. This was a John who was sure that this was what he wanted. 

“Thank you for coming with me today.” Clara said breathlessly, breaking off the kiss. 

“You needed me.” He said, as though it was the only thing she needed to know.

“I’m going to need you more over the next couple of days. Is that okay?”

“It’s always okay when it comes to you, Clara Oswald.”

“Say my name again.” She said, smiling tiredly up at him.

“Clara Oswald.”

“You always make it sound so pretty.” She mumbled, nestling her head in beneath his chin. His response was lost to time as Clara finally was able to fall asleep.

He was already up by the time she awoke 4 hours later. 

“Kettle’s just boiled.” He said, mug of steaming tea sitting on the table in front of him.

“Thanks.” Clara set about making herself a cup then joined him.

“I’ve called the University, let them know about the situation. They’re covering what classes they can. You’re Mr Pink had already volunteered to take your morning session and I believe it’s Ms Noble herself who is covering your afternoon classes. I’ve cancelled all of mine. My students will be overjoyed, especially the second years, since they were supposed to hand in an assignment today. Now they’ve got at least one whole day to come up with brand new excuses for why they haven’t done it.” He’d barely finished speaking before she was upon him, pressed up against the back of his chair with her arms draped over his shoulders.

“Thank you.” She murmured. He reached up a hand and rested it over hers.

“I just want you to have as little to worry about as possible.” John said quietly. Clara pressed a kiss into the top of his head, his soft hair tickling her nose.

“I’m really glad you came with me.” John didn’t respond, just gently stroked his thumb against her skin reassuringly.

“We’ll head back to the hospital in half an hour, okay?” He said, after a few seconds of silence. 

“Yeah. I’ll text Dad and let him know.” She said, letting go of John and sitting back down. An hour later they were walking into the hospital, a change of clothes for Dave in an overnight bag. Clara felt slightly more refreshed now that she’d eaten and showered. Ellie was already in surgery when they arrived. Clara sat between her father and John, who buzzed with nervous energy until both men gave in and disappeared in opposite directions to take a walk. John came back two hours later and silently handed Clara a cup of coffee from the hospital cafe. Dave didn’t return for nearly four, bringing a dozen brand new books for Clara to read.

“Dad, you shouldn’t have.” 

“The lady at the shop said they were good.” Dave shrugged off her protests. Clara left him alone after that. If this was how he dealt with his anxiety, so be it. She’d rather that than shouting at everyone around him or disappearing off to a pub to get drunk. By the time Dr Holloway came to tell them about how Ellie’s surgery went, all three of them were deep into one of the books.

“You’ll be relieved to know that we just had one of the most textbook surgeries I’ve ever been involved in. We won’t know for a little while yet whether we were one hundred percent successful but everything so far has gone so smoothly I almost can’t believe it.” Clara was nearly bowled over as her father flung his arm around her, pulling her in so tight that she couldn’t breath. It was a few moments later that she realised that he was shaking, pulling away to reveal a tear streaked face. He slipped his hand through hers and squeezed, smiling with relief. Clara returned it, even as she reached out behind her searching for John. She stood there, letting two of the most important people in her life ground her for a moment as she felt the weight that had settled over her yesterday finally beginning to lift.

“When can we see her?” She asked, breathing deeply so that she didn’t start to cry.

“You can go into her room now, but she probably won’t be awake. You might get a few hours with her later today, but it’s going to be days before she’s going to be able to make it more than that. Be patient with her, and most importantly, encourage her to be patient with herself. She’s got a long recovery ahead of her and she’s going to need your support.” 

The next few days passed by in a blur. Every one of the books that Dave bought were read, stories barely penetrating Clara’s worried mind. Clara tried to send John home so that they weren’t both missing work but he insisted that he would stay. Unlike her, he had been working at the University for decades and had accrued a lot of leave. Many of her students sent her consolatory emails that made her cry. Ellie drifted in and out of consciousness, taking great efforts to talk to her soulmate and daughter whenever she was awake. After a week, Ellie was allowed to return home and Clara reluctantly returned to Gallifrey so that she didn’t end up completely broke. 

“Are we dating, John?” She turned to ask John suddenly, after a long exhausting car ride. He took a long time to respond.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, eventually. The problem was that Clara didn’t either. She was tired of dancing around her feelings, too scared to confront them. But most friends didn’t take a week off work and travel hours away when their friend’s parent was ill. Danny and Rose had both called daily and Donna had been sending a stream of emails that were an impressively well balanced mixture of work and personal. Mickey had even dropped by one day because he was home for a day between trips. But only John had been there, almost permanently by her side. 

Then there was the kiss, of course. Nothing had ever felt as natural as kissing John had. Fuck. She had to talk to someone who knew about this sort of thing. There had to be someone at the university who she could bring up all the queries and concerns she had. That was it. Tomorrow she was going to go through the staff directory and find whoever the bond researchers were, and then she was going to finally ask the questions she’d been avoiding for forever.

~~~~

Clara took a deep breath before knocking on the office door. The university records had told her that P21 was Doctor Katherine Lethbridge-Stewart’s office but she still wasn’t sure about her own decision to seek the woman’s advice. Clara knew that she was the expert on bond lore (which in turn made her well read on bond _law_ ) and that if anyone would listen to her questions and concerns without judgement, it would be Dr. Lethbridge-Stewart. 

It was interesting that her office was located in the P building, which was reserved for the psychology faculty. Clara wondered if that had been Dr. Lethbridge-Stewart’s decision or the University’s. The door opened to reveal a friendly faced middle aged woman, with blonde hair that curled in around her chin. Her sharp eyes swept keenly over Clara as she gave her a polite smile.

“Hello. How can I help you?” Her voice was equally polite, pleasant and measured but with an edge that stated authority.

“Um, hi. My name is Clara Oswald. I’m not bothering you, am I?” Dr. Lethbridge-Stewart shook her head.

“No, not at all. What can I help you with? I know you’re not a student of mine.” She stated simply.

“I’m not, no. I work over at APHSS. I just had a couple of questions about bonds and wondered if there was a chance that you could find some time to see if you can answer them for me.” Clara tried to phrase it in a way that didn’t make it sound like a demand, or something that couldn’t be refused.

“Sure, I’m free now if you like. Clara, you said your name was? Just call me Kate. Come in.” She stepped back from the door, revealing a small, well kept office with a large, very full bookshelf.

“You can take that seat, my assistant has gone home for the day.” She pointed to one of the two empty chairs with her left hand, and Clara’s eye was immediately drawn to the cuff poking out from under the sleeve. 

“Assistant?” Clara queried.

“Co-researcher, colleague, soulmate, wife, whatever you want to call her. I’ve got no lectures this afternoon and I finished marking my papers yesterday so there was really no need for her to hang around.” Kate clarified, sitting down on her chair. 

It was an ergonomically designed contraption that looked like it would be awfully uncomfortable but Kate didn’t seem to mind. Thankfully her assistant’s chair was much softer with a lot of flexibility in the back. Clara sat, rocking slightly for a few seconds before she realised that Kate was expecting her to talk.

“Oh. Me. Right. I’m going to trust that anything I ask you, or discuss with you will remain private.” Kate nodded, her face serious. 

“I’m not legally qualified to be a psychologist but I pride myself on being an honest, dependable person. Nothing you say to me will leave this room unless you wish it to, Clara, you have my word.” She promised. That was good enough for Clara.

“In all you research, have you ever come across someone who had a soulname that wasn’t a real name?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. Kate’s expression remained carefully neutral.

“As opposed to?”

“An occupation, for example.” Clara tried to make it sound a bit more casual this time but was acutely aware of how desperate she sounded.

“An occupation? No. I can’t say I have.” She had Kate’s attention now, she could see it on her face. The slight furrowing of her brow and the straightening of her posture.

“So if I was to say that I had ‘Doctor’ written on my arm, that would be unusual?” Kate’s eyebrows both raised.

“Unusual? Yes, I suppose you could say that. Not entirely uncommon. Plenty of people choose unique names for their children in an attempt to help them be found. I expect you’ve already tried searching databases and bondmatch sites.” Clara nodded.

“I’ve never found anyone with the name. Not in the phone book, not even in genealogical records. Whoever it is, I can’t find them with conventional means. I’m starting to think maybe that’s because I’m not...because I can’t...” She trailed off, not wanting to give a voice to the vicious self doubts that repeated themselves in her head. How was she supposed to tell someone that she thought she might be broken?

“Have you experienced any strong desires to pursue something unrelated to previous goals or aspirations? Perhaps to go visit a place you’d never thought about before, or take up a new hobby for reasons you can’t explain?” Somehow, Kate seemed to know what she was thinking anyway.

“Well I was happy teaching in London before taking this job after being drawn to the advert. But...I don’t know. I thought it felt like the Pull but it’s not like I’ve gone in a whole new direction, is it? I’m still teaching English to high schoolers.”

“You’ve changed countries though. That’s a big step for anyone.” Kate pointed out.

“There was one other time but it was such a small thing I never really thought anything of it.” She paused, almost unsure of whether to continue.

“Small things can often be the most significant.” Kate encouraged her gently.

“A few months ago I was going to my best friend’s soul ceremony. I was all ready to go in my blue dress when I felt this intense need to change into my red one. I couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard I tried. It meant redoing my makeup, changing hairstyles to match a different dress shape...” It sounded ridiculous. People changed clothes on a whim all the time.

“Did anything come of it?”

“I...well, no. Not really. I mean, everyone kept commenting on how I matched someone else but he’s not...we’re not…” She was floundering. “I’m sorry, I’m wasting your time.”

“No. Not at all. This man. You feel connected to him?” 

“No.” Clara replied reflexively. Kate fixed her with her keen eyes, gazing at her as though she could see into her brain.

“Yes.” She admitted.

“In what way?”

“I dream about him, all the time.” It was the first time she’d told anyone about the dreams. Donna, bless her, loved gossip too much. Danny was still a colleague as much as he was a friend and it wouldn’t be appropriate. Rose...well perhaps that one was just due to Clara being ever so slightly jealous that she’d already found her soulmate.

“The name on my wrist changes. Sometimes it’s not there and it comes out with his name during the dream, other times I wipe away Doctor and it’s written underneath.”

“You have these dreams all the time?”

“Almost every night since I met him.”

“And you’re sure he isn’t Doctor? He hasn’t changed his name or assumed an alias?” Clara shook her head.

“His records all say John Smith. It’s what he’s down as in the Staff Directory. It’s his legal name.” Kate’s eyes widened.

“John Smith the astrophysicist?” The surprise was evident in her voice.

“Yeah.” 

“He’s friendly with you?”

“Yeah.” Clara knew he was less forthcoming with other people, she’d seen it often enough, but she hadn’t realised this was something that other people talked about.

“Okay. I’ll be honest with you, Clara. It is unusual to have such frequent dreams, especially so focused on soul names, if you aren’t soulmates. But I don’t have enough information to consider you an outlier. You’re 27. Not outside the usual age for finding your soulmate.” Kate sounded exactly like she imagined her mum would if she’d confided in her.

“John is though. He’s in his 50’s. That’s 99th percentile.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Kate’s gaze sharpened again.

“That’s correct. You’ve done your research.”

“That’s why I came to you. After 9 years I was out of ideas.” Clara explained. Kate nodded slowly, opening her mouth to speak but taking a few seconds to actually start talking.

“There’s this notion in society that you can only be happy or fulfilled in a relationship with your soul mate. I’ve been in this line of research long enough to know that it just isn’t true. If John isn’t your soulmate, and he’s given no indication that Clara is the name on his wrist, that doesn’t mean that you can’t make it work.”

“I don’t want to marry him. It’s not the same thing. It ought to be, but it isn’t. A person finds their soulmate and they Bond and everyone respects it even though she’s half his age and he only has three friends because he’s impossible.” It began as a protest but as usual her mouth ran away from her at an alarming pace.

“Three?” Kate queried. 

“Myself, the owner of Jack’s restaurant and one of the politics professors, Missy.” Clara clarified.

“Yes, they would be friends, wouldn’t they? If you could call it friendship.” Kate murmured cryptically.

“Everything I’ve read says how I feel around John is what it feels like to be bonded. I’m calmer, I’ve felt comfortable around him from day one. When I’m not with him all I can think about is how much I wish I was. When I kissed him it felt as natural as breathing.” She sounded pathetic, she knew she did. The fact was John wasn’t her soulmate no matter how much she wished he could be.

“There’s another word for feeling that way around someone.” Kate said. “Love.”

It hit Clara like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. This feeling, this _knowledge_ she had that she and John ought to be together, was how Rose had felt about Mickey all those years ago.

“No wonder she cried.” She murmured.

“Who cried?” Kate asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“My best friend. When we were kids. I was dismissive of Romeo and Juliet.”

“Ah. She had a partner?” Kate queried.

“Yeah, a boyfriend. Everyone thought they were a done deal. They weren’t. Their relationship didn’t survive. Both Bonded now though.” Clara explained.

“Do you want a relationship with John?”

“Yes.” There was no point in denying it, not after she’d come this far.

“So then the question you should be asking yourself is this. Is a relationship with John Smith, the man you love, more important to you than Doctor, a person you’ve never met?”

“Yes. I don’t know. I just want him to _be_ Doctor.” Clara sighed, bring her hands up to cover her face.

“Have you ever considered that your soulmate is entirely platonic?” Kate asked. Clara neck snapped up.

“What?” It wasn’t supposed to sound so demanding, but it came out that way.

“It does happen that people meet the person whose name is on their wrist and find that the chemistry they share is entirely friendly. Perfectly matched friends.”

“I never found anything that said that.” Clara said, finding herself leaning forward in her chair.

“It’s only just starting to crop up in the research. Three studies have been published in the last eighteen months. I can email you the PDF’s if you’d like?” Kate offered.

“Yeah. That would be great. Thanks.” Clara said, standing up. Kate rose with her.

“If you’ve got anymore questions, don’t hesitate to contact me.” Kate said, holding out her hand. 

“Will do. Thanks so much for you time.” Clara said, shaking it.

“Not a problem. I hope I helped.”

Clara made her way back to her office unsure of whether her visit to Kate had cleared things up or muddied the waters even further. The only thing she knew for certain was that she loved John and that she was finally ready to admit that to herself.

~

When she came in to work the next day, there was an email from Dr Lethbridge-Stewart already waiting for her. She immediately downloaded each of the PDF’s attached and began to read. The first was about several married couples who had been put to the test when one member had found their soulmate and had to balance their relationships. Some had fallen apart within days, others persisted on for months or years. Still more had managed to work out a solution that allowed each relationship to be stable. In several of the latter instances this was achieved by keeping the bond relationship completely non-sexual and/or non-romantic. 

The second detailed several accounts of people who had formed platonic soulbonds without a previous partner requiring a compromise. The third paper was a long term study of a cohort of 3000 people with comprehensive statistics on the conditions of their bonds. They fascinated Clara. She devoured the numbers that told her how many people had found the soulmates after 15 years, how many had taken which tests – Long or Confirmation, and who had chosen not to have a Ceremony at all. 

That last one was what interested her the most. The researchers had been given several reasons by the cohort, a lack of funds being the most common. But a few had responded that their bond was non-romantic. Clara was soaring high above the clouds. She’d worried that Kate was building her up with false hope yesterday, but here was evidence that she could make a non-bond relationship with John work, regardless of whether or not she later found Doctor. 

This was what she’d needed to make that final step. An external source to validate what she’d been feeling on the inside for so long. Yesterday she had been ready to admit it to herself. Today she was prepared to tell the world, and if anyone had a problem with that they could go to hell.

She punched John’s desk number into her extension and waited. It almost rang out before he answered, sounding distracted.

“What do you want?” He greeted her gruffly.

“Good morning to you too.” Clara replied teasingly.

“Oh, it’s you. What do you want?” He still had a grumpy edge to his tone but he had softened considerably since realising who was on the other end of the call.

“Lunch. Tomorrow. At the Lake. 12 o’clock.” She told him casually but firmly. There was a brief moment’s pause.

“Okay.” John said. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Oh no, there’s no need. I’ve just bought myself a new motorcycle and I’m dying to test it out. It’ll be faster to get to work than walking and easier to park than a car.” Clara replied.

“All right then, I’ll meet you at Lake Jackson tomorrow at midday, Clara Oswald.”

“Yes you will, John Smith.”

~

Between the final class of the day and drinks with Donna and Danny, Clara managed to hurry off to the supermarket and buy what she wanted for the next day and get it home before she was due at the bar.

“Something’s got you smiling.” Danny said when she walked in. Donna was at the counter, ordering which bought Clara a couple of seconds.

“I’m having lunch with John, tomorrow. Up at the lake. Just the two of us.” She said, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially.

“Is it official then? You two are properly dating now?” Danny asked in the same hushed tones.

“Not yet, but I’m going to tell him how I feel and see where it goes from there. Don’t tell Donna. I love her but she’ll spread it everywhere and I can’t bear the thought of everyone knowing if he rejects me.” It still felt a little odd sometimes, confiding in Danny when for so many years her first port of call would have been Rose. But she was too close to this one now that she was a Tyler-Smith and Clara didn’t want to put her under any unnecessary stress. Danny laughed.

“He won’t reject you. I can promise you that. Not with the way he looks at you.” He said reassuringly. Then at the look on Clara’s face he hurriedly added, “But don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

“No, you won’t.” 

~ 

Clara rode into the carpark of Lake Jackson feeling untouchable. She took her helmet off and hung it from the handlebars before setting about taking the food from the compartment on the back of her bike. Freshly made assorted sandwiches, a platter of soft cheeses, and a platter of fresh fruit had all been somehow squeezed into it. It took several trips between one of the tables overlooking the water’s edge before she’d unloaded everything, including a bottle of wine and two plastic wine cups with stems. It was all ready to be consumed when John showed up, quarter of an hour late.

“When you said you had it covered, I didn’t realise you meant you were going to literally smother every available inch of the table’s surface.” He said, staring at the array of food with wide eyes.

“And when I said 12 o’clock, I didn’t realise that was code for 12:15.” Clara replied with missing a beat.

“Sorry.” He replied automatically.

“Don’t worry about it, I was just teasing you. Now come and help me eat all this food because I’ve just realised that I have drastically over catered.”

The next hour drifted by in a pleasant haze of food and wine, conversation flowing easily until Clara finally saw her chance to work soulbonds into the discussion.

“I’ve met thirteen people who had Clara on their wrist, convinced that I was their match.” She said, laughing. John broke into a grin. 

“Try being an unbonded 56 year old with the name John. Over the years there have been a _lot_ of people who thought I was their John.” Clara’s mouth twisted as she tried not to laugh. “Not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Did you ever wish that any them _were_ your match?”

“A few.” He replied, not quite meeting her eyes.

“I was always so jealous of people with uncommon names because it would be so much easier to find you. When I was a kid I had a secret name for myself so that when I met them, whoever they were, I would _know_ because I was the only one who had my secret name. Of course as I got older I realised that would also make it really hard for them to find me in the first place, so I let it go.” She smiled over at John, hair tumbling down over her shoulder. 

“What was it? Your secret name?” He asked, brow furrowed curiously. 

“Oh, it was silly really. I took the first two letters of my surname and added the word ‘win’ to the end because I thought I’d stumbled onto something really genius.” Clara started laughing, expecting John to join in. But he didn’t. He just sat there, gazing over at her silently. After a few seconds it began to unnerve her. 

“What? Are you judging me? Because I won’t have you judging me.” She said, defensively. 

Without a word, John started to undo the straps on his cuff. 

“John…” She began, before realising she didn’t know what she wanted to say, and let his name hang in the air between them. 

The next few seconds felt like an eternity, as Clara tried to steady her breathing and gather her thoughts before they galloped away into the distance. She could hear that John’s breathing had increased and his fingers were trembling slightly. The cuff slid away, catching for an agonising moment on the sweat of John’s skin before revealing the inky black writing that had been hidden beneath for so many years. Five letters, as perfectly formed as every other soul name. _**Oswin**_. 

“Oh my god.” Clara scrambled to her feet, running a hand through her hair as she struggled to stay in control of herself. 

“I thought maybe I’d missed her.” John said slowly, as Clara practically vibrated on the spot. 

“Or that she’d purposefully hidden from me when she met me. I’ve read all the literature and it happens sometimes. Bonds are so unpredictable and we still don’t fully understand them so I reasoned that I wouldn’t even know that it had happened, no matter what popular culture says.” He continued steadily, as though Clara wasn’t bent double in front of him, head between her knees as she desperately tried to compose herself and stave off the panic attack that was threatening. 

“Then I met you and I fell. I fell so fucking hard and I realised I didn’t care about her, whoever she was. I wanted you. I loved you. Oswin was just a name, some abstract concept out among the stars. Clara Oswald was right there in front of me and I loved her so much it made my chest hurt. I’d never felt that, before you. That gut-wrenching need to _be_.” So many words, he just kept talking and talking and Clara just needed him to _shut up_. To be quiet and stop giving voice to every doubt, every thought that had been consuming her for months. 

“Stop. Just, stop. Give me a minute. Give me a minute and then we’ll talk.” This is what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? For her name to be on John’s arm? This was her chance, how many Oswins could there be? She’d made the name up hadn’t she? He didn’t have to know what was really under her cuff. 

“I’m sorry.” John said. The sadness in his voice stabbed at her like a fucking knife. “I’m not the dashing young man you were hoping for. I...I understand. If you don’t want to. I’ve screwed it up, haven’t I? God, Clara, I’m so sorry. You deserve someone so much better.” He sounded so dejected, years of self-loathing pouring out. Clara forced herself to take her face out of hands, placing them on John’s knees to steady herself. 

“No, John, it’s not that. I couldn’t ask for a better soulmate than you. Really, I couldn’t.” She reassured him as he averted his gaze. 

“Clara, you don’t have to coddle me. It’s okay.” He told her softly, putting his hands on top of hers and squeezing them gently. 

“It’s not. It’s really not. My problem isn’t your age, or the grey in your hair, or the lines on your face.” She smiled up at him with eyes shining as she blinked back the hot prickling sensation in the corners. 

“The issue, the thing that is just killing me right now, is that John isn’t the name on my wrist.” She couldn’t breath. All those dreams, idle fantasies about the name on her wrist suddenly changing to John one night while she slept, they seemed so fucking cruel now. 

“I love you, John. I love you so much it makes my stomach ache and my heart flutter. But it’s not John on my wrist. It’s a coincidence. It has to be.” Clara told him, her voice catching a few times as her chest constricted. He looked up at her, the pain of rejection disappearing, replaced by a renewed hope. 

“What does it say?” He asks, so quietly that it’s scarcely more than a whisper. 

“What?” Too much had happened in the last few minutes for Clara’s brain to cope and she had to really push herself to focus. 

“Your wrist. What’s the name on it?” He murmured in the same low tones. Clara turned her head, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“Why? It’s not John so what does it matter?” She asked. 

“When I was a boy, I got bullied a lot. Kids don’t like it that much when you act as though you’re more intelligent and mature than the rest of them. I’ll admit, I may have been a bit obnoxious and my keen love of science marked me as an easy target. Sometimes, if a day had been particularly bad, I’d go home and build a fort out of my blue duvet and pillows. I’d pretend I was a superhero who fought bullies. Gave myself a superhero code name. I thought it was cool. Time passed and the bullying stopped happening so much and I didn’t need my alter-ego the same. But the name stuck with me and as I neared 18 I thought about how much simpler it would be if I didn’t have to search through a million people with John on their wrist to find the one who matched. What if I had an easier name, a name that meant more to me because it was mine and mine alone. One that no one else even knew existed.” Clara let out the breath she had only been vaguely aware that she was holding. 

“What was the name?” She whispered. There was a fear in John’s eyes now and she could feel it reflected in herself. If he was wrong… 

“Please, John. What was the name? Tell me what the name was.” She closed her eyes, trying to swallow down the nervous sick feeling that was swelling inside her.

“Doctor. I called myself the Doctor.” Clara burst into tears. 

Her legs collapsed underneath her, forcing John to catch her as she fell. She could feel his anxious gaze on her but her tongue wouldn’t work. Unable to speak she simply offered him her wrist, waving it at him until he took the hint and began to undo the straps on her cuff. His fingers were shaking so badly that he struggled, slipping multiple times before he was able to remove the cuff from her slender wrist. She knew he’d seen the name when he audibly inhaled, before running a tentative finger over the six black letters that she saw almost nightly in her sleep. 

“It’s you.” She choked out. God she was so embarrassing, making such a spectacle of herself when she’d just found her soulmate. 

“I’ve been dreaming about it being you since we first met. I felt it. I’d almost given up on soulmates. Thought we’d have to settle for love.” Her legs were still shaking beneath her as she tried pull herself back together. John gazed down at her with a slight frown. 

“Loving you is far from settling, Clara. From the moment I met you it’s all I’ve wanted.” The disappointment on his face and the strange way he’d walked away from her on that first day came flooding back, suddenly making perfect sense. 

“We’re a pair of idiots.” She said, turning around so that she could sit between John’s legs, resting her head against his thigh. Reaching up she grabbed his right hand with hers, threading her fingers through his and holding it there just below her shoulder. 

“We’re gonna have to take the test if we want to do this properly and get legal protection.” He said, running his left hand through her hair. Clara sighed. 

“Yeah, but not right now so let’s just have this moment. Okay?” She never saw the soft, fond smile he gave her yet she knew that he wore the expression anyway. 

“Okay.”


	4. as long as i live through you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making love and the bonding of souls.

They decided on John’s house, piling all of the leftover stuff into the back of his car. Clara got there first, parking her motorcycle to the side of the garage.

By the time John made it several minutes later, Clara was ready to explode with frustration. All she wanted to was touch him, taste him, memorise every line and curve of his body until she knew it as well as she knew her own. He barely had a chance to get out of the car before she was upon him, arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss even as she stretched up on her toes. Gently, he pried her fingers apart, untangling himself from her grip.

“Not until we’re inside.” He said, glancing anxiously at the windows of the house next door. “The neighbours…”

“Fuck the neighbours.” Clara cut him off sharply enough that he raised an eyebrow in surprise. 

“You’re mine. I’m yours. That’s all that matters.” She added, softer but still firm. John looked down at her, seemingly stunned into silence. For a few seconds he stayed that way, mouth slightly agape as his eyes darted about her face, studying her. Then, without warning, he was kissing her. It had none of the fire that she’d poured into the kiss that she had initiated, but the deep, desperate _need_ was still there as he practically consumed her with tenderness. Clara closed her eyes, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and clutching them for dear life. His teeth grazed her lower lip, capturing it briefly between them, reminding her that this wasn’t a dream. It was happening. Finally. She brought her leg up, trying to give herself more leverage. John took the hint, picking her up and carrying her to his door, even as she wrapped her legs around his waist and continued kissing him. There was an awkward few moments as he had to fish his key out of his pocket and unlock the door one-handed, carefully step over the threshold and enter his house.

They never made it to the bedroom. The moment he set Clara down she was tugging him along until her spine was digging into the back of the sofa. 

“You’d better be out of those clothes in the next minute or I’m tearing them off you.” Clara warned him, pulling her sweater over her head so that she could unbutton her shirt.

“Maybe I’d like that.” John replied, but after a sharp glare from Clara he hurried to remove his jacket. He’d barely finished getting undressed when she was on him, steering him until he was sitting on the couch with her on his lap. She could feel him pressing against her thigh and the need inside her rose. He gazed up at her as though she was heaven itself, pupils dark and mouth slightly open. He touched her face with his hands, fingers brushing gently over her lips before trailing down her neck to trace her collarbones. 

“Venus herself could never be as beautiful as you.” He murmured reverently as he ran his hands over her breasts, thumbs grazing her nipples. She arched her back at the contact and he took the hint, leaning forward and taking her left nipple into his mouth. Clara’s head rolled back as he suck and nibbled carefully at the sensitive nub, allowing herself a small moan when he bit down a little harder, his thumb rubbing circles around her other nipple. By the time he switched and gave her right nipple the same treatment she felt as though she was positively melting. He tried to pull away but she raked her fingers through his hair, catching him and holding him in place.

“Not yet. Just a bit more. Please.” She used her grip on his hair to anchor him in place for another half a minute before finally releasing him.

“Are you ready?” She asked. He nodded slowly.

“You don’t need me to do anything for you first?” A brief frown crossed his face before he relaxed, eyes purposefully meeting her gaze.

“Clara Oswald, I’ve been ready for you since the day we met. You are all I need.” She kissed him again, one hand on his shoulder to steady herself while the other reached down for him. His hands settled on her hips as he held her gaze. He moaned the moment she touched him, eyes fluttering shut as she sank down onto him. The world shuddered to a halt. How long they sat there like that, unmoving, as they became one for the first time, Clara would never know. Time ceased to have any meaning. 

It wasn’t the greatest position she’d ever chosen to have sex in. Her thighs were already starting to burn. But not a single part of her cared about that. This moment could last forever and maybe it did. Just her and John, baring their soul to the other, sharing their vulnerabilities in the most intimate way. She knew that he was waiting for her, letting her decide when she was ready to move again.

She held John’s gaze as she slowly pushed up, unable to stop a moan from passing over her lips as she eased herself back down. 

It took a little while before she settled into a rhythm, the fire in her thighs building as heat pooled between them. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her hips as he began to get close but she was enjoying herself too much to care. He didn’t make a sound when he came, mouth open silently as his eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss. It was a few seconds before he opened them again, swallowing heavily as his eyes fixed themselves on Clara’s face as though he was committing every detail to memory.

“You’re so beautiful.” John whispered, stopping Clara’s hand as she reached down to bring herself to climax.

“Let me.” She could refuse him, if she wanted to. Relinquishing control had never been a strong point of hers. But she was already so tired and it was hard to coordinate. If she had her time over again, she’d have taken this to the bedroom. 

“Okay.” The moment his thumb brushed over her clit, she knew that she wasn’t going to last long. This night had been building for so long and now it was here she could hardly take it. John was good. So good that she completely lost focus, eyes closed as she threw her head back and surrendered to his ministrations. Her legs shook as she came with a soft cry, and it was all she could to stop herself from collapsing forward.

“I can’t…” She tried to tell him that she couldn’t move, her legs seizing up as the fire in her thighs finally froze her. Her tongue was too big for her mouth and her brain felt disconnected from her body. Without a word he helped her off him until they were both sitting on the sofa, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. John’s arm was draped over her shoulder as she rested her head against his chest. He idly played with her hair while she listened to the sound of him breathing.

“Are we dating, Clara?” He asked after a while, as she ran her fingers over the black letters etched into arm.

“Yeah.” She said, lifting her head so that she could see him, meeting his gaze with a smile. “We are.” She could feel him relax now that he had confirmed that this thing between them wasn’t going to go anywhere any time soon.

“I’m your boyfriend.” He grinned lazily at her. Clara laughed.

“Yep. Now excuse me boyfriend, I’m going to go have a shower.” She got up and sauntered slowly towards the hallway down which his bathroom was, knowing that his eyes were on her every step of the way. Just as she reached the entrance to the hall, she turned to face him.

“You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” She said in her most sultry voice.

“If you’re looking for a repeat, I’m not that young anymore.” John replied as he stood up anyway.

“Hey, who said anything about sex? I just like looking at your pretty face.” 

Finding all her clothes after the shower proved harder than she thought. She thought she’d undressed fairly neatly but her underwear had somehow ended up halfway across the room, her shirt had flat out vanished and her cuff had been sucked into the void beneath the couch.

Somehow she wound up sitting on the sofa in a bra and jeans, wearing one of John’s coats. 

“I’m going to call my parents to tell them what’s happened.” She told John as he came over clutching two mugs of steaming tea.

“Okay.” He said blankly.

“You should ring James.” She added, as she held her phone up to her ear. 

“Why would I do that?” He asked, frowning. Clara shook her head but her reply was lost to time when her mother answered.

“Mum? I have wonderful news. I found my soulmate.” 

~

Clara stayed at John’s that night, riding her bike home the next day. The first thing she did upon walking through the door was call Danny and tell him to get his arse over to her place as soon as possible. Half an hour later and she was sitting in a chair with her laptop on her knee in the middle of the most complicated group Skype chat that she’d ever had.

It had been a pain in the arse to co-ordinate but eventually everyone had managed to be patched in. Danny was behind her, leaning against the kitchen bench while she had Rose, Mickey (with Martha hanging about in the background listening in as she worked), Donna and Shaun, and Adam all on Skype. Exactly how Adam ended up getting roped into the call she didn’t really know. She hadn’t texted him yet here he was just the same.

“Clara you aren’t making any sense.” Adam said, rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand.

“It’s not _that_ complicated. Both John and I came up with code names when we were kids, forgot about them, and spent months unable to figure out why we felt like soulmates when our names didn’t match. Except then we discovered that they _did_ match, just in a different way than we expected.” Clara tried to summarise everything as concisely as she could.

“I don’t know, that sounds pretty complicated.” Danny said. Mickey nodded in agreement.

“I knew there was something there. You matched at my Ceremony. I could sense it.” Rose said, seriously. Behind her the door opened and James came in. At first he didn’t seem to notice Rose or her laptop as he busied himself putting his keys and coat away, whistling merrily until he turned and found himself facing a silent video chat.

“Oh, hello everyone!” He said brightly, clambering over the back of the couch and sliding down next to Rose, who greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

“What’s news?” He beamed at them all. Rose gave the camera a quizzical look that Clara recognised was aimed at her. She cleared her throat.

“I found my soulmate.” She announced. James clapped his hands together, grin widening impossibly.

“Congratulations! Who’s the lucky one then?” 

“John.” She answered, knowing that she was about to have to explain what had happened all over again. Repeated explanations were what she’d hoped to avoid by having the group call but apparently the universe had decided against her.

“My cousin John?” He asked, frowning.

“One and the same.”

“But I thought…” James trailed off. Danny started laughing. Clara sighed and began walking James through everything that had happened. By the end he was laughing too.

“Only my cousin.” He said, shaking his head.

“So you’re going to have to do the Long Test, aren’t you?” Mickey asked. Clara nodded.

“Yeah. No simple Confirmation for us.” Confirmation was a formality. If the names on the birth certificates matched the names on the wrists, that was enough for the government as long as you could answer a dozen questions. The Long Test on the other hand was pages long and designed by Bond experts to prove or disprove whether a bond existed when names did not match those assigned at birth. In practice this meant that anyone who had changed their name legally would have to take the Test, or instead get Married. 

“I just can’t believe you never told me about the Oswin thing when we were little.” Rose said. Clara shrugged.

“It was embarrassing. Plus soulmarks don’t work that way. Or at least, I didn’t think they did.”

“I think it’s very sweet.” James said, smiling pleasantly.

“Thank you James. I’m glad someone does.”

“Hey, I never said it wasn’t sweet. It’s so sweet I can feel my teeth rotting.” Rose protested.

“Who are you going to pick as your Witness?” Donna asked.

“Donna!” Shaun scolded her as an audible intake of breath could be heard across the chat..

“You’re right. That was inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

“Him.” Clara responded, pointing a thumb behind her. Danny’s head jerked up as his eyes widened in surprise.

“Me?” He squawked, dashing around the bench and throwing his arms around her so forcefully that she almost fell out of her chair. 

“Yes, you.” Clara said, laughing brightly as she patted one of Danny’s arms. Logistically he made the best choice. He had become one of her best friends, and lived in the same town which meant organising things with him would be infinitely easier than with Rose or Mickey. It was only when she was looking back at a screen full of smiling faces that she realised there was a slight problem.

“Hold on, we have to pause the celebrations. In all the excitement yesterday we never actually confirmed that we were going to be Bonded. Neither of us proposed.” She exclaimed, scrambling to retrieve her phone. She punched in John’s number and waited.

“Did you forget something?” He greeted her gruffly.

“Yeah, I did.” She said, playfully.

“Whatever it is, I can bring it in to work on Monday.” He replied, completely missing the tone in her voice.

“It’s not that kind of thing.” There was a moment’s pause.

“I don’t understand.” He said, blankly.

“John Smith, my Doctor, will you register your Bond with me?” A collective hush fell over the chat as they all anticipated his response. 

“You already know my answer.” John said, his tone low and sincere. 

“I'm going to need you to spell it out for me.” Clara teased. John sighed.

“Yes, Clara Oswin Oswald. Of course I’ll Bond with you.”

“He said yes!” Clara shouted at the group, who all erupted with applause and cheers. Danny scooped her up out of the chair and squeezed her into a rib crushing hug.

“Hang up, I’m going to call him.” James called, leaping over the back of his sofa to get his phone. “Tell him he’d better answer or I’m coming up there.”

“The last of our single friends has finally found their soulmate. We’re all growing up.” Rose said, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye.

“Excuse me, I’m right here.” Adam protested, looking offended. Mickey doubled over as Rose hurried to apologise.

“Don’t worry about it mate, I’m single too. You can be my date for the Ceremony.” Danny reassured him. What Clara wanted to say was ‘ _No. No way. Not happening._ ”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Somehow came out instead.

~

It was almost two weeks before they could get an appointment to sit the Long Test. They were told to set aside at least 4 hours but warned that it could take as many as 6. 

John was already over it before they arrived, ranting sourly about how unscientific he thought both the Confirmation and the Long Test were, accusing it of being nothing more than a legal form to absolve the government of any and all responsibility if things went wrong. 

“You’re starting to sound like an old conspiracy theorist.” She teased him as they pulled into the carpark. 

“I am an old conspiracy theorist. Aliens are real.” He replied, seriously. “That’s not a joke. The chances of aliens not existing are so low that it’s mathematically impossible. They’re out there. It’s what form they take and where they are that are the real mysteries.”

“You’re doing the cute science thing again and I love it.” She said, reaching across and stroking his hair fondly. 

“Mmmm.” He grunted awkwardly, before getting out of the car. They made their way to a small reception area painted a dull beige. It had the overly sterile feel of a doctor’s waiting room.

“John Smith and Clara Oswald.” John said to the woman behind the desk.

“Good morning Mr Smith, Ms Oswald. Dr Shaw will see you shortly, if you’d like to take a seat while you wait.” 

“No need. I’m ready now.” A woman with bright ginger hair tied above her head in a tight bun said, standing in the entrance to a hallway. She had a prominent nose and some of the sharpest eyes that Clara had ever seen. “Come with me, please.”

John exchanged a look with Clara as if to marvel at the fact that a government appointment had occurred on schedule.

They followed Dr Shaw down the hall until they reached the end. She directed John through the door on the left and Clara through the door on the right. Clara didn’t know where Dr Shaw herself went, but it wasn’t with either of them. The first part of the test was the verbal confirmation, in which Dr Shaw asked them a series of questions about their relationship. She would ask the question, then mute the volume in Clara’s room so that she couldn’t hear John’s answers. Then it would be Clara’s turn to reply. It took over an hour before Dr Shaw was satisfied. 

The second part of the test was far, far longer than the first. Some portions involved doing a drawing in response to a sentence. Others were questions about Clara’s past. Her childhood, her feelings on bonding and soulmates, times that she thought she had felt the pull. More than a couple of questions felt utterly irrelevant but Clara answered them anyway. The whole time she was sitting the test, she knew that Dr Shaw was watching her. It was like going back to school except instead of determining what A-Levels she got, this test would decide whether or not the government agreed that John Smith was her soulmate.

In the end it was 4 hours before they were allowed to leave, with assurances that they would have the results in 3-5 business days. Naturally it took 6. A large envelope arrived on Clara’s desk in the morning bearing the logo of the Department of Births, Deaths, Bonds, and Marriages. 

“Oh no.” She said, picking it up as though it might explode.

“Your fate has arrived then.” Danny said, standing up from his desk and walking over to her.

“I don’t know if I should open it here or take it over to John so that we can open them together.” Clara told him, biting her lip with worry.

“Well, what would he do in your situation?” Danny asked, just as the door opened and John swept into the room. 

“Oh good. You got one too. I thought you might like it if we opened them at the same time.” He said, glancing at the envelope in Clara’s hand and waving about his own. Clara ignored the amused smile she could see stretching across Danny's face in her peripheral vision.

“You’re scared.” Clara said.

“No I’m not.” John replied reflexively. 

“It’s okay to be scared. I am too.” She told him. 

“I don’t want him in here while we do it.” John said, looking heatedly at Danny. Danny raised his eyebrows at the unintended double entendre before making his way to the door.

“When you get back I’ll let you know if you’re going to be my Witness or my Man of Honour.” Clara told him before he left, closing the door behind him.

“On the count of 3?” John asked. Clara swallowed her nerves back as she nodded.

“1. 2. 3.” They both tore the envelopes open and began to read. Clara’s eyes scanned the page until she found what she was looking for.

_Mr Smith and Ms Oswald were found to have a less than 0.1 per cent chance of not being soulmates. In addition, their answers put them firmly into the 99th percentile of couples tested. With these results the Department must accept their claim to be soulmates and permit them to legally register their Bond at the time of their choosing, in accordance with Bond Law Article 6.73b._

“Dr Shaw verified us. We can get Bonded.” Clara shouted, throwing her arms around John’s neck even though she was still clutching her letter. For a moment John was content to bury his face in her hair, holding her close to him. Then he began to laugh, picking her up and spinning her around as best as he could in the enclosed space of the office.

“I love you.” He said quietly, once he had set her back down.

“I know.”

~

Somehow the papers got a hold of their story. One day Clara was going about her daily business and the next she was being bombarded with phone calls and emails wanting to set up an interview. One particularly aggressive reporter had actually shown up at the office and had refused to leave until Danny could distract him long enough for Clara to call campus security.

Not so much too afraid as too _angry_ to go home to either of their houses, they ended up staying other people's places. John with Missy and Clara with Donna and Shaun since Danny had no bed to spare. Clara's night devolved into a string of calls from her parents, Rose, and Mickey. Even Barbara Chesterton checked in to tell her that there had been questions asked by journalists at Coal Hill. 

She sat alone in the Temple-Noble household’s spare room, reading a trashy romance novel until 2am when she was tired enough to sleep without her brain running too fast. When she got up for breakfast, Donna had bought a stack of papers both regional and national. All of them had the same photo splashed across the cover, of her and John sitting in the campus centre on a Monday morning. She didn't know when the photo had been taken or by whom.

“It’ll die down. It did for that model and her footballer and the other bloke, and they’re proper famous.” Shaun said, in an attempt to reassure her.

“But how did they find out? Test results are confidential and I haven’t told anyone I don’t trust.” Clara didn’t even want to think about any of her friends trading in her privacy for a paycheck and Dr Shaw hadn’t seemed the type to leak confidential records. 

“Well if you’re so confident in your own friends, that leaves either government leak or John told someone who cares more about money than friendship.” Shaun pointed out. Clara shook her head.

“He didn’t even tell his own cousin. I had to. It wasn’t anyone John knows.” Clara insisted. Shaun shrugged.

“Government employee then.”

“Oh, you should sue.” Donna said, furiously.

“I’m not going to sue. That will just make it worse. All I want is for everyone to go away and leave John and I in peace.” Clara replied, more venomously than she intended to. Donna fell quiet, leaving the room silent save for the sound of crunching toast and tea being sipped. Clara finished her breakfast and washed her dishes. It was only as she was leaving the room to go have a shower that she heard Donna mutter under her breath, “I still think she should sue.”

~

Shaun was right. A week later and no one cared, other than Clara’s students who were just thrilled that their teacher was almost a tiny bit close to being nearly famous. 

~

John was a blank canvas when it came to planning a ceremony. He had no firm ideas, having all but given up on finding love or happiness over a decade ago. The only solid concept she could coax from him was ‘red’ and ‘please do not invite every person we have ever me’. The first was easy, and as for the second, well she’d had to go to James for a list of people John might like to invite so no promises there.

Her own thoughts had always come back to a medieval theme and after much negotiation she found a compromise with John’s fear that it would be too kitsch. Since then she’d taken to referring to her ceremony plans as ‘Robin Hood lite’. Finding a suitable dress at a regular store was impossible so she found herself in the next village over getting fitted for a custom designed gown. As she was getting measured up in her first fitting, another woman was having her last. The woman stepped out in a gown with a split up to her thigh and Clara instinctively gasped. 

“Hello legs!” She blurted out, clapping a hand to her mouth when she realised that the words hadn’t stayed inside her head. “Sorry.”

The woman threw back her head and laughed, bright red hair spilling down her back.

“No need. It’s the reaction I’m looking for. Amy Pond.” She held out her hand. Clara took it, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“I know you. I’ve got your perfume!” Clara exclaimed. _And signed copies of all of your books._ Now that she knew who she was, and was looking at her face rather than other attributes, she could recognise her. She just hadn’t expected to run into her in a dress shop.

“Oh, that’s great!” Amy said brightly, before frowning slightly. 

“Your face looks familiar, but I can’t place it. Are you from Leadworth?” She asked, peering a little closer at Clara’s face.

“No. Born in Blackpool, spent most of my life in London. Now live in Gallifrey.” Something visibly clicked on Amy’s face.

“You’re Clara Oswald. Now I remember, you were in all the papers with your John.” Her John. It still sent a tingle up her spine to hear soul language used so casually about the pair of them. Everyone just accepted their relationship as a fact, even if they were curious about the story leading up to it.

“As were you with your Rory and your...Eleven. Congratulations on your bond, by the way.” The headlines had been highly sensationalist. _Eccentric Nottingham Forest footballer ‘Eleven’ revealed to be one of rare double Soulbondees with model/author Amelia Pond and Leadworth nurse._

“Thanks, you too!” They lapsed into idle chatter as the fittings continued. For a while Clara was completely distracted by the fitter, choosing fabrics, sleeve lengths and bust lines. By the time she was finished Amy had changed and was finalising payments on the dress. There was a question that Clara had wanted to ask from the moment she had realised who Amy was, and it was now or never.

“Amy…” She said, to catch her attention.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to. Just wanted to make that clear. But your soulmark... obviously one name is Rory. But what does the other one say?” It was incredibly rude to ask about a soulname of a stranger and normally she wouldn’t, if it weren’t for her own situation. She couldn’t just let this opportunity slip her by. Amy eyed her with something closer to curiosity than suspicion.

“It says Eleven.” She stated simply.

“Not-” Clara started but Amy cut her off.

“No. Like you, I’ve got a nickname written on my arm. I don’t think it’s as rare as they’d like us to think, just understudied and underrepresented.” Clara didn’t know whether she wanted to cry, hug Amy, or both. For the first time in a long time the name on her wrist didn’t feel wrong or abnormal.

“Maybe we should start a support group. An online forum or something, where people like us can meet up and exchange stories. Somewhere that we can feel normal.” Clara suggested. She immediately knew that Amy approved of the idea, as her eyes lit up with an air of inspiration.

“A community. Yeah. We need awareness. Definitely. I’ll put the word out down some of my channels, see if there’s any way to get something up and running. Do you mind giving me your details for if I need to contact you?” Clara found herself writing down her phone number and email address on the back of a business card, getting Amy’s details in return.

They talked for a little while longer, until Amy caught sight of the time.

“That can’t be real. Oh no, I’m late. I have to go. Sorry to leave you like this, but I’ll be in touch, okay?” She said, barely giving Clara time to nod in response before she was practically sprinting out the door.

~

A few weeks later and Clara found herself back at the dress shop for the first fitting of the actual dress. This time she would be meeting with John’s chosen witness, Missy LeMaitre, the politics professor and apparently his best friend. To counterbalance the brightness of Clara’s red, it had been decided that Missy would wear black.

“You want me to wear that?” Missy asked, when the dressmaker brought out the slender velvet dress with gold cord around the waist.

“Is there a problem with it?” Clara questioned. Missy looked at her incredulously.

“Of course there is. Where are the sleeves? The shoulders? The hips? Where’s the _shape_?” She replied disdainfully.

“I want to look like I’m at a simple feast, not like I’m in the Royal Court.” Clara told her.

“That’s so boring. You’re boring and this dress is boring.” Missy whined, gesturing dramatically. Clara recoiled slightly at the insult, not quite believing what she’d heard.

“Well, make it interesting then.” She said sharply. Missy’s lip curled up with amusement.

“Now you’re starting to sound more fun.” Missy said, turning to the dressmaker. “Let’s talk.”

While Missy discussed alterations, Clara set about trying on her own dress. The first time she’d come here, she hadn’t appreciated how small the change rooms were, never having gone inside one of them herself. Trying to squeeze herself into her wedding dress without elbowing the wall or accidentally punching something was an exercise in restraint and caution. It was made of a soft, red stretch velvet which meant there was no zip, no buttons, just an awful lot of pulling and twisting and tugging to get it on.

Eventually she managed it, stepping out into the main shop floor to let one of the fitters help her with the finer adjustments, Missy and her dressmaker nowhere to be seen. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror and gasped. It was perfect, from the way the sleeves tapered down to the fine point over the back of hand to the slight pooling of the bottom of the dress around her heels.

“Do you want to see it with the hood up?” The fitter asked. Clara nodded. The fitter took a few moments to move the hood into place before stepping back so that Clara could see herself in the mirror.

“It’s wonderful. I can’t believe you’ve done it. It’s like you’ve reached inside my brain and made it real.” She murmured in disbelief.

“I couldn’t have done it without your clear design. You were very specific and most refreshingly, you never contradicted yourself in what you wanted.” The fitter replied, beaming.

Clara spun on the spot, twirling with her arms raised at shoulder level as she watched the material at  
the hem of her dress fluttered outwards in a majestic circle. She was giggling happily when Missy reappeared from out the back, dressmaker following her like a lost puppy and looking very tired.

“It’s much better, isn’t it?” Missy trilled, rotating slowly so that Clara could see the adjustments she’d made. Instead of the gold cord, she’d replaced it with a thick gold trimming that was temporarily pinned in place. The same trim also decorated the sleeves just above the elbow, and the inner edge of the opening of the sleeves. A petticoat had also been put underneath so that it had a more A-Line shape. Clara had to admit that it did suit her more, the thicker trim giving the dress more life.

“You look wonderful.” She told Missy, who made a big show of being flattered.

“I know. But thank you.” Missy said, smiling widely in such a way that she gave Clara the distinct impression that she was a shark. Her eyes glinted with steely glee.

“So, are you going to let me get my dainty little hands on you?” She asked, tilting her head gleefully.

Clara’s answer, in short, was no. The more forceful she was in declining Missy’s input, the more Missy seemed to like her, floating around the room and interjecting every so often with ‘advice’. At least there was no chance of Clara becoming one of those horribly demanding brides. Missy would see to that.

By the time they left the shop Clara was happy, Missy was happy, and that was the best she could have hoped for really.

~  
Amy emailed her ten days after the fitting. 

_Hey Clara._

_The forum idea is on hold for now. I’ve been thinking about it and I think the best way to bring relationships like ours to public attention is if I write a story about soulbonds and nicknames._

_I’ve had a talk with my agent and she thinks I’ve got a great story on my hands. I was wondering if you’d like to collaborate with me, let me ask you questions and bounce some ideas of you?_

_I’m really excited about this. It’s going to be so cool._

_Amy._

Clara immediately replied with just a few simple words.

_Amy,_

_I’m in._

_When do we start?_

~

2 weeks to go and they confirmed the venue. Flowers had been organised and the caterer was booked. John insisted that he would take care of the honeymoon and had thrown himself into that task headfirst. There were flyers and pamphlets in his office, in his house, even in his car. His search history was full of travel sites and searches for places of interest which Clara was _not allowed to look at_. Not that he would give her so much as a hint whenever she asked what his plans were.

~

1 week to go and Clara’s parents arrived in town. They’d managed to find a lovely little cottage to stay in on the outskirts of Gallifrey, one of the oldest remnants of the original village. She gave them a tour of APHSS, which turned into a tour of the entire university. Both of them were so excited for her that they couldn’t stop talking about it, the conversation always coming back to the upcoming ceremony. Nobody stopped smiling.

~

5 days to go and Clara slept over at John’s house. She had more stuff here than in her own flat now but she hadn’t officially Moved Out. There were more clothes on her side of the closet than John’s though, more of her toiletries in the bathroom. Not that it was exactly hard. He didn’t seem to own much beyond shampoo, soap, and a toothbrush. She’d had to buy him a comb since he was under the impression that his fingers were a perfectly adequate alternative. These mornings would never grow old, waking up to smell of...well she hadn’t figured out exactly what John smelled of, but it was her favourite scent in the whole world. Fresh and clean and nice. She snuggled up to him, pressing against his back as she hooked a leg up around his thigh and slipped an arm around his waist. Closing her eyes she let her world shrink until it was just this moment, this bed. Her and John at the centre of the Universe. 

~

2 days to go and everything began to happen at once. Bags were packed for the honeymoon so they didn’t run out of time later. Danny picked up the outfits for him and John, dropping them off on his way in to work. Her month of Bond leave had started yesterday, leaving Danny alone in their office. He was graciously pretending he wasn’t pleased to have the tiny space to himself for a few weeks but Clara knew that he was going to enjoy it. Danny had only been gone a few minutes before Rose turned up, James in tow. 

“It’s gorgeous. Not a lot of room for two couples but it’s only for a few days and we’re opposite the lake so if we get a bit claustrophobic we can go and grab a breath of fresh air.” James was explaining where he and Rose had booked to John. They were sharing a house in the new estate that fronted onto Lake Jackson with Martha and Mickey. Meanwhile Rose was catching up with Clara.

“I can’t believe it, we’re going to be family. My best friend is going to be my cousin-in-law.” The guilt that Clara had felt ever since choosing Danny as her Witness over Rose started to bubble away again. She tried to brush it aside.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works. I’ll be James’ cousin in law and you’ll be John’s, I’m don’t know if that makes us anything.” Clara pointed out. Rose shrugged.

“So it’s a few times removed, whatever. My point is that they’re family, we are their family, and that makes us family.” It was a lovely thought. Clara hoped that maybe that meant they’d see more of each other. Perhaps they could do a Smith-Tyler-Oswald family Christmas.

“There’s no hard feelings that I chose Danny, then?” She asked. Rose laughed.

“There’s no hard feelings that I chose Mickey is there?” Clara shook her head.

“Point taken.” She conceded. 

“Speaking of Mickey, you should see his costume. It’s brilliant.”

~

1 day to go and Clara had taken everything she would need for the ceremony to the cottage her parents were renting. While she wasn’t having the most strictly traditional of ceremonies, Clara still liked the idea that John wouldn’t see her on the day until the exchange. Dave insisted on watching a movie to help ease her nerves. For reasons only known to her father, he chose Titanic, one of the saddest films about the loss of a soulmate in existence. Clara went to bed having cried so hard she felt as though she’d been hit by a bus. As it turned out, her dad might have on to something. The film had taken so much out of her that she was asleep in minutes.

~

She woke up at 6 and couldn’t get back to sleep, no matter how hard she tried. At 7 she stopped bothering and got up. Breakfast was an absolute chore as her stomach twisted and roiled until she felt certain it was going to escape from her body and strike out on its own.

“It’s okay sweetheart. I was just as nervous before my ceremony. It’s normal.” Ellie reassured her as Clara struggled to get another bite of toast down.

“I know. But it doesn’t make me feel any better.” She wanted to cry she was so tense, all that pressure inside her building until she’s sure she’s going to break. Today was what she’s wanted for so long but the anxiety still hung over her like a cloud. She wanted it to be perfect so badly that it was too much, the fear that something would go wrong gripping her tightly and refusing to let go.

“Come here.” Her mum said, holding out her arms. Clara felt like a little girl as she got up and walked around the table, sitting in her mum’s lap and resting her head on her shoulder. For months she had worried that she would lose her mother but now Ellie had began to really recover and Clara felt that she could begin to let go of those fears. They were still there ten minutes later when Dave walked into the kitchen, Ellie singing the old lullabies that Clara loved so much as a child. If he noticed the tears in either woman’s eyes, or if they noticed the telltale shine in his, none of them mentioned it.

The beautician arrived at 9, bright eyed and all smiles alongside the photographer that they had hired. The photographer was a young woman, barely 19 and studying at the University. Curling her hair turned out to be a long process involving a lot of hairspray and a curling iron. Clara had never thought of herself as someone who had a lot of hair but she was seriously reconsidering that assumption after seeing the number of sections her stylist had split it into to make it manageable. Then two braids were woven into the curled hair and pinned behind her head, as much for aesthetic as it was to conceal the ends of the gold circlet that would go across her forehead. Isobel, the photographer, carefully documented each stage of the process. They had moved on to makeup by the time Danny turned up, also looking infuriatingly well rested.

“Wow.” Was all he said when he caught sight of her.

“Is that good or bad? My brain is just a dense cloud of fog at the moment. Possibly hairspray. I may have been poisoned by it.”

“Oh, it’s good. Definitely good. Your John isn’t going to know what to do with himself when he gets his eyes on you.” Danny replied, breaking into a broad grin.

It was after eleven by the time Clara, her parents, and Danny were all dressed and ready to go. Ellie was clad in a glorious black and gold A-line dress that matched Dave’s jacket. Danny’s outfit was mostly black, with splashes of red in some of the detailing to match Clara’s gown. Isobel took every combination of photos imaginable; Clara and her parents, Clara and Danny, all four of them in the living room, on the front door step, getting into the car. Then, after the beautician left, they crammed the five of them into the one car and drove to the lake. Clara sat in the front with her father, while Ellie, Danny, and Isobel squeezed themselves into the back.

As they pulled into the carpark, Clara could see that the lakeside had been transformed into a festival, vibrant colours stretching out as far as the eye could see. A small gazebo had been set up on the flattest patch of ground, a few dozen chairs full of people already waiting in front of it. That was all she could take in before they pulled up next to a small tent. Isobel was out of the car the instant they stopped moving, sprinting around to get herself into position. Danny wasn't far behind her, practically leaping out of the car to open the tent flap, holding it so that Clara could duck through. Missy was already in the tent, looking thoroughly bored. She brightened slightly as Clara joined her, mouth forming a predatory smile.

“Thought I was going to have to send out a search party.” Missy said, dryly. 

“I’m surprised you’re here on time. You haven’t seemed that enthusiastic about the ceremony throughout the planning and preparation.” Clara fired back. Missy raised an eyebrow, eyes lighting up dangerously.

“How dare you! I have an excellent sense of time and I am never, ever late.” She said, sharply.

“We’re not late. You weren’t late. We’re all here. Let’s get started.” Danny said, calmly to the pair of them as Ellie and Dave trailed in behind them. Isobel made them pose for a few more photos before she dashed off to get some of John and the Celebrant before the ceremony began. They had a few minutes to compose themselves while waiting for their cue. Clara found herself doing slow laps of the tent, gently stroking her cuff. It was the first one she’d ever got, repaired so that it looked like new. She stopped when she realised that Missy was watching her with lazy amusement. Finally, after what felt like hours, the music started to play.

“We’re up.” Danny said, offering his arm to Missy with a grin. She eyed him up and down before accepting, slipping her arm through his. They disappeared out the front of the tent, leaving Clara alone with her parents.

“As long as you remember to breathe, you’ll be fine.” Dave said, looping his arm through hers and smiling at her reassuringly. 

“Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Ellie added, taking her other arm.

“You ready?” Her father asked. Clara nodded.

“I’m ready.” She took a deep breath and then they stepped forward together. The breeze coming off the lake was cool but Clara barely felt it. All of her attention was currently focused on making it to the gazebo without tripping over her own feet. As they drew closer she could feel every eye turning towards her, a smile coming automatically. She couldn’t stop once she started. She felt utterly radiant as she reached the aisle, laughing when she spotted Mickey sitting in an almost complete set of replica armour. For as long as possible she avoided looking at John. At the end of the aisle her mother and father kissed her and wished her luck before taking their seats. Now it was just her, making the final few steps on her own.

She finally allowed herself to look at John and found herself coming to a complete stop at the bottom of the stairs. The only thing she hadn’t had creative control over had been John’s outfit and somehow she knew that even she couldn’t have found something she would have liked better. He looked like someone had taken the guitarist from a rock band and wrapped them in a renaissance painting. A punk Robin Hood. 

Recomposing herself, she made her way up the stairs and took her place opposite John.

“You look beautiful.” He said, gazing at her as though she was the most precious thing in the entire universe.

“You haven’t scrubbed up too bad yourself.” She replied, grinning. 

“Are we both ready?” The celebrant asked. Clara and John nodded in unison.

“Welcome, family and friends of Mr John Smith and Ms Clara Oswald. We are gathered here today to celebrate the discovery of an ancient bond that bind these two people together in a way unique to them. For all of recorded history, humans have received a tattoo like mark on their wrist that foretells a future relationship that will have special meaning to them. The right to have these relationships protected socially and legally is universally recognised in the foundation of this country, and the universal rights committee of which it is a member. By agreeing to legally recognise their relationship, Mr Smith and Ms Oswald are accepting the responsibilities that come alongside the protection afforded to them. They have testified, of their own free will, that they are the person referred to by the name on the other’s wrist. This has been independently confirmed through the Long Test. Now, enough formalities. Let’s talk about John and Clara.”

The Celebrant recited this without glancing down at her notes, only looking at them now that she was up to the personalised part of the Ceremony. She told the story of how they had met, then just when Clara felt that she was going to explode with anticipation, out came the box containing their Bond Cuffs.

“Ms Oswald, may Mr Pink and I see your wrist?” Clara undid the clasps on her cuff and pushed up the sleeve, revealing her soul name. The celebrant nodded and turned to Danny, who also nodded his confirmation. He took the matching cuff from the box and wrapped around Clara’s left wrist, clipping up both of the small hearts with a joyous smile stretching across his face.

“Mr Smith, may Ms LeMaitre and I see your wrist?” John’s cuff was held in place by a single stud, a double layer of black leather that was plain save for the double heart detail punched out from the top layer to match the motif of Clara’s cuff. Missy reached out and rubbed at the name on his wrist with her thumb, sighing dramatically when there was no telltale smudging of ink.

“It’s real.” She said, the resentment in her tone only partially concealed. There was no smile on her face as she took John’s bond cuff from the box, glaring at it as though she wished it would burst into flames. John didn’t show anything on his face, but Missy was deliberately rough as she put the cuff on for him, nails digging in whenever and wherever she could.

“I have verified these soulmarks, in front of witnesses, and am willing to testify that they are accurate as confirmed by the Long Test. I now pronounce you Bonded in the eyes of the Law, receiving all rights and entitlements guaranteed by entering into this special and unassailable relationship. You may now kiss your soulmate.” The celebrant had barely finished speaking before Clara had launched herself at John, arms wrapped around his neck as she stretched up into a kiss. His hands settled on her waist so that he could support her as he dipped her. Cheering and whistling rang out from the crowd, growing louder once Clara was back upright. John slipped his hand through hers and squeezed it as they stood together looking out on the sea of familiar faces who had come to celebrate with them. 

“I don’t know what to say.” John whispered at her through the smile plastered on his face.

“Let’s the feasting begin!” Clara shouted, raising both her hands in the air, taking one of John’s with her. The crowd cheered in ascent and sprang into life, recognising that this was the end of the Ceremony and they were allowed to move now.

“Really?” John asked, raising both of his eyebrows.

“What?” Clara said, defensively. “You didn’t know what to say. I panicked. It’s fine, it’s nearly lunch time. They’ll all be hungry anyway.”

Clara was hungry too, but food would have to wait. She went around with John, systematically greeting every guest. Their closest friends and family were all there, of course.

“This is incredible! Where on earth did you get it?” Clara asked, once she reached Mickey and his armour.

“My Martha got put on to a place that does authentic armour from any era. She’s got a nurse friend at work who likes to do these Roman dress up days and recommended it when he found out we were going to a themed wedding. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, although it was a mistake wearing it in the car. Had to be dragged out through the combined efforts of Martha and Rose since James was too busy laughing to be of any use.” Mickey explained.

Kate had come with her soulmate, Osgood, who was eyeing the row of archery targets set up near the lake with great interest. After lunch there would be lessons and a contest, as though this was a festival rather than a ceremony. Osgood managed to snare Martha, who was dressed as an archer and began to talk her ear off as Kate watched on casually.

“Jamie? Wee Jamie McCrimmon from next door?” John exclaimed when a young man dressed in a kilt came up to him.

“Aye. ‘Spect I’ve grown up a wee bit since ye last saw me.”

“What happened to you? You’re all tall and...and...” He gestured at Jamie’s whole body.

“I grew up, Johnny. Got myself a girlfriend, too. Think you an’ her might already be familiar.” He turned around and waved at a petite young woman wearing a tartan dress with a fitted bodice and full skirt. She came hurrying over, small face bright and full of life.

“Hello Professor.” She said, slipping her arm through Jamie’s as she beamed up at John.

“Oh, Professor! One of your students, then?” Clara queried. 

“My very best.” He replied, focus still on the girl. “Come find me later, Zoe, I need to talk to you about that application. I have a few ideas for how you can improve it.” 

“Oh no you don’t. She’s here to have fun, not discuss her plans for the future.” Clara said, nudging John gently away from the young couple. “Sorry about him. He doesn’t know how to have a day off.”

“Neither does she.” Jamie replied, nodding his head in Zoe’s direction. 

“That’s not true, Jamie!” Zoe protested, arms folded in front of her chest.

“Admit it, Lassie. Ye can no more sit still than I can understand all those numbers ye talk about all the time.” He was teasing her of course, and she was falling right for it. Sensing that fireworks were about to start, Clara dragged John off to the next group.

“The Chestertons!” Clara exclaimed happily when she caught sight of them standing there next to each other, both dressed in a merry green. She hugged them both in turn, catching Ian off guard as he was expecting a handshake. “I’m so glad you came. I’ve missed all of Coal Hill, but you guys most of all.”

“He’s not your boss anymore, no need to flatter him.” Barbara joked.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.” Clara replied, smiling warmly at Ian.

“Don’t, you’ll make his head swell.” Barbara said as she reached up and stroked Ian’s hair fondly.

“I’m John and it’s nice to meet you.” John interjected stiffly, offering Barbara his hand. It sounded so rehearsed that Clara was surprised he hadn’t pulled out cue cards.

“It’s a pleasure. I’m Barbara, this is my Ian.” Barbara told him as she shook his hand, gesturing at Ian with her free hand. 

“I hear you’re in Astrophysics. A far cry from my high school chemistry, but always good to meet a fellow educator of the sciences.” Ian spoke to John in a conversational tone. John stared at him as though he had just announced that he liked to murder woodland creatures in his spare time.

“Yes.” John replied shortly after a few moments. Ian nodded politely, clearly thrown off his game by John’s abrasive response before turning his attention back to Clara.

“You’re looking well. How are things up here in Gallifrey?” Clara told him all about the University, how different it was living in such a small town compared to London and how she was loving the challenge of catering to such advanced pupils.

“It’s been so worth it. I’ve made some great new friends and met the love of my life.” She reached out and took John’s hand, squeezing it gently. His face instantly transformed from almost aggressively bored to softly affectionate.

“We’re so thrilled for you. There’s nothing better than seeing a good friend so happy.” Barbara said kindly. 

The next hour passed by in the blink of an eye, and Clara was congratulating herself internally for reaching every single guest before lunch was served when there was a sudden commotion in the direction of the carpark.

Clara turned to see a familiar red-haired woman making her way across the grass towards the tables dressed in simple peasant’s clothes and flanked by two men. One of them she recognised as the footballer, Eleven. He was wearing a Viking costume, complete with a sword that he was waving about with terrifyingly low awareness. The other man had chosen a distinctly Italian style outfit.

“Amy!” Clara exclaimed with happy surprise. 

“So sorry we’re late. My meet and greet was cancelled so I thought we would put in an appearance but then I let _someone_ navigate so we ended up getting incredibly lost.” She fixed Eleven with a steely glare. Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care as he bounded over to greet them.

“Hello! I’m Eleven. You must be the happy couple. Hello! Wait, I already said that.” Eleven spoke like an excited puppy who had just tried cocaine for the first time, and much like a puppy he seemed easily distracted.

“Lutes!” He shouted, breaking in a broad grin and dashing over to the band who was setting up to play.

“Before you ask, yeah, he’s normally like that. I’m…” The other man began before being cut off by Martha hurrying over while calling his name.

“Rory Williams! Fancy seeing you here!” She said, drawing him into a hug.

“You know me. I’m like a rockstar, always popping up unexpectedly.” He laughed awkwardly, making an odd little movement with his hands at the words ‘popping up’. Martha shook her head, smiling.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some friends of Mick and me.” She said. Rory glanced over at Amy who pulled a face.

“What are you looking at me like that for? I’m not your mum, you don’t need my permission.” She told him. Rory followed Martha over to where Mickey was standing with Rose, James, and Adam.

“Well my boys are occupied, so all that’s left is for me to get my hands on a drink. Where can a girl get a Tequila Sunrise around here?” Amy asked. 

“It’s ale, wine, cider and mead only, I’m afraid.” Clara said, at the same time John blurted out “Why are you here?”

“I was invited.” Amy replied, frowning at him in confusion.

“We’ve been emailing regularly for weeks. About the book I’m helping her write? John, I’ve told you about this several times…” Clara supplied. She was met with an expression of paradoxically blank horror.

“You don’t remember, do you?” She asked.

“I do not.” John shook his head. Clara sighed heavily.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute because you really are difficult sometimes.” She said, smiling up at him.

“Difficult is my middle name.” He replied.

“I thought Weird was your middle name.” Clara said, raising her eyebrow.

“It is. I have two.” 

Amy cleared her throat.

“Yeah. Hi. Still here. Mostly because no one has told me where I can get a drink.”

“Sorry.” Clara apologised, before nudging John with her elbow. “Show Amy the bar. I’m going to go check on the food and see if we can get three places added to the tables.” She expected John to be grumpy or make a scene but he just offered his arm to Amy with a pleasant “My lady.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She said, taking the offered arm and walking off with him over to the bar. 

Clara never made it to the food tent, as catering staff began to pour out carrying trays of roasted meat, piles of steamed vegetables, plates of savoury pastries and bowls of piping hot broth. She flagged down one of them and explained the situation with Amy and her boys. They assured her they would take care of it.

On cue, guests made their way to the tables. The ceremonial table was the smallest of them, with only eight places set as neither Danny nor Missy brought a partner. They didn't want to inflict Missy on any of John’s single friends and Clara wasn't about to make Danny sit next to Adam. Clara took her seat just as John came back, handing her a goblet of wine. As he sat down she kissed him on the cheek, grinning as he broke into a shy smile.

Ten minutes later and the lakeside was abuzz with sound. All of these people, friends and family, people who had meant so much to them at different points in their life were all here to celebrate with them. Clara blinked quickly a few times to push back the tears that were threatening. Her mother must have noticed, because she reached over and rubbed her arm soothingly.

“You okay?” Ellie asked, gently.

“Yeah. Just a little overwhelmed. I’m good, though.” Clara replied, making herself smile. Even as she looked at her mother she felt John’s fingers winding through, squeezing reassuringly. Nothing needed to be said, she knew what he was telling her. He was there and that was enough.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, it was time for the speeches. Dave went first. He talked about Clara’s childhood, her love of books and games of imagination. He recounted the day that Clara had received her soulmark and slept through it, joking that she had always been a little slow when it came to these things. He teared up as he told those gathered about how John had been a constant source of strength, both for Clara and her parents as they dealt with Ellie’s illness.

“Ellie and I are just so proud of our Clara, and how much she has achieved in such a short time. So tonight we’d like you all to join with us to celebrate her finding someone who loves her as completely and unconditionally as we do. To Clara and John!” Dave raised his beer stein and the guests followed his lead, muttering the words and taking a drink. Rose and James both stood next, grinning as John eyed them warily at the paper they were holding between them but there was nothing to worry about.

The pair were easy going and in sync, switching effortlessly between reminiscing about a childhood growing up a few floors up and a childhood spent in mild fear of a cousin idolised. 

“Sharing stories, Rose and I noticed that for all their differences, there were a few things about Clara and John that were so similar. Both entering the profession of teaching, obviously.” James said.

“An overwhelming need to be in control.” Rose chimed in.

“A fascination with history.”

“Somehow acquiring a large sphere of friends and acquaintances.”

“Denying this at every opportunity and claiming that they ‘only have a few close friends’.”

“Having their first kiss with their best friend.” Rose turned to wink at Clara, as Missy began coughing on her own inhaled saliva and John started so violently he nearly fell off his chair. 

“Our point - yes, we do have a point - is that we always saw that there was something special between them, even though no-one knew it at the time. It was a surprise, but not unexpected that they turned out to have that rare kind of relationship that is so highly sought after in our society.” James continued, either unaware or not caring about the reactions of those around him. “John Smith is a remarkable man, whose heart has always been in the right place even though he has sometimes struggled to understand the world around him.” 

“Likewise, Clara Oswald is a woman of incredible strength and character. She always strives to put others first, but never allows herself to be mistreated.” Rose said, voice catching ever so slightly.

“Separately they are already extraordinary. Together they could take over the world. Thank you, John and Clara, for allowing us to share tonight with you. On behalf of myself and Rose, Ellie and Dave, Missy, Danny, and everyone else here, we wish you the absolute best for the future. To John and Clara!” James finished, before draining his goblet to conclude the speech. At the far right of the ceremonial party’s table, Missy moved to stand up.

“No.” John said firmly, fixing her with an icy glare. She returned it with fierce heat, finally conceding with a roll of her eyes. Clara realised it was her turn to speak and she stood up, taking a well loved, dog-eared copy of Les Miserables that had been passed down the table from Danny.

“Good afternoon everyone. Thank you for all making the journey to celebrate here today with John and I. It means so much to both of us that we get to share this day with all of you. I intended to write my own speech today but in the end, I kept coming back to one of my first loves and a passage that struck me at a young age and resonates even more greatly with me now than it did back then. I’d like to share it with you now.” She opened the book to a marked page, where pencil underlined a chunk of the text.

_“Cosette, in her seclusion, like Marius in his, was all ready to take fire. Destiny, with its mysterious and fatal patience, was slowly bringing these two beings near each other, fully charged and all languishing with the stormy electricities of passion,—these two souls which held love as two clouds hold lightning, and which were to meet and mingle in a glace like clouds in a flash._  
The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only. The rest is only the rest, and comes afterwards. Nothing is more real than these great shocks which two souls give each other in exchanging this spark.  
At that particular moment when Cosette unconsciously looked with this glance which so affected Marius, Marius had no suspicion that he also had a glance which affected Cosette.  
Say what you will about Victor Hugo, but it is undeniable that he writes of soulbonds in a way that even many of our most celebrated romance authors cannot touch. At the risk of cementing my reputation as an irredeemable literature geek, I’ll close by once again quoting Mr Hugo on love.” She turned to another page, and again read the highlighted passage.  
“ _Love is knowing that even when you are alone, you will never be lonely again. And great happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved. Loved for ourselves. & even loved in spite of ourselves_.  
I love you, John. For everything that you are and that you will be. Before the bond and after, it makes no difference. I love you wholly and unconditionally, with all of my heart and soul and mind. I love you so much it scares me. Thank you for loving me, too.” She leaned down to kiss him, proud of herself for making it through without shedding a tear. His turn upon him, he rose from his chair and pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Taking a sip of his drink and clearing his throat as he opened it, he began to speak.

“When I first met Clara she left a bruise on my foot that took three weeks to fade. That was nothing compared to the mark she left on my soul. I knew I was lost the moment she smiled at me. It was as though she had bottled the sun, radiating brilliant warmth that penetrated into the dark depths of even my icy heart. I've experienced a great deal of loss and sadness in my life and I am ashamed to say that one of the worst moments of my life was watching her walk away, not looking for John. Meeting her again at James and Rose’s ceremony felt like more than luck, yet again I saw her slipping away from me as I feared I had gone too far and been too...aloof. I failed to see that I had made just as deep an impression on her. She never told me that she, too, shared the dreams. And I never told her just how much she came to mean to me.” John paused for a moment to recompose himself as his voice cracked. His gaze was fixed down at the table, avoiding the eyes of everyone listening. The paper only had a few sentences on it, and he hadn’t glanced at it once since starting to talk.

“To me, Clara Oswald is hope. She is strength, and she is kindness. She is anger and she is joy. She is perfect and she is flawed. She is bossy and she is patient. She does not complete me, she complements me. She helps me to challenge myself, to become better than yesterday. She is enough. More than enough. She’s...she’s Clara.” He said her name as though it encapsulated an entire universe all of its own. Then, holding the paper up he added.

_“It has made me better loving you...it has made me wiser, and easier, and brighter. I used to want a great many things before, and to be angry that I did not have them. Theoretically, I was satisfied. I flattered myself that I had limited my wants. Now I really am satisfied, because I can’t think of anything better._ ”

“Henry James.” Clara noted, recognising the quote immediately. John nodded, sitting back down without saying another word as applause broke out.

“All right. That’s the end of the speeches. If you’re interested there’s an archery range over by the lake. Sword fighting and jousting is over in that direction and the band will be playing music until we tell them to stop so there’s plenty to keep you occupied if you hate the person next to you. Please note that there is no drinking while holding any weapons, real or fake.” James announced as the clapping died down. 

Most people were content to stay in their seats for a while, grabbing more food or another drink. Several people made a mad dash to the activities. Osgood had dragged Kate over to the archery, practically vibrating with excitement as the woman in charge of safety showed her how to hold a longbow. Eleven was over at the sword fighting in the blink of an eye, chattering away brightly to the man of arms. Gradually more and more people wandered over until less than half of the guests remained around the tables.

Martha proved to be an adept archer. Osgood, for all her enthusiasm, lacked the strength needed to draw the longbow that she stubbornly persisted with and struggled to fire a single arrow. Wisely, Clara chose to use a shortbow and nearly strangled Rose by accident while celebrating managing to get an arrow to reach the target. 

Over at the sword fighting, Mickey and Rory turned out to be a surprisingly even match with Mickey’s military experience and Rory’s re-enactment training, and a willingness to ham it up for entertainment making them a popular spectacle. James challenged John to a match that was declared a draw by Rose when they got a little bit too competitive. 

The afternoon vanished in the blink of an eye, as the sky began to grow dark and the drinks continued to flow. After Rose and Donna both requested that dancing kick off for real, Clara and John made their way to the area set aside as a dance floor for their first dance.

Looking very proud of himself, Jack took the mic and asked them to get ready. Clara put her hand on John’s shoulder, taking his hand and waiting for the music to begin. All eyes were on them but everyone else faded away into the background as Jack’s voice carried them around the floor. She rested her head against John’s chest and closed her eyes, letting him guide her. As the song came to an end, there was a round of applause. Jack handed the microphone back to the band’s vocalist and practically threw himself at John and Clara.

“Thank you for that. You were wonderful.” Clara said, once Jack had released them.

“Thank you for allowing me to indulge myself. Love performing for a crowd.” He replied, kissing both of them on the cheek before heading over to where Ianto stood and pulling him onto the floor for a dance. With the customary first dance out of the way, the guests were more comfortable to hit the floor themselves and soon there was a sizeable number of people swaying and spinning and grooving in front of the band. Clara danced with everyone from her father to Rose to Ian Chesterton, while John found himself accosted by James, Jack and Missy at various points.

By the time things were winding down it was nearly 7, the cold air blowing in off the lake cutting through thin costumes even as Jack wandered between guests handing out buy one get one free coupons for his restaurant.

“Open tonight.” He would add, winking.

“Come tomorrow. Our head chef isn't in tonight.” Ianto would said, following behind him.

All too soon it was over. They made their rounds of the guests, thanking them all for coming before being cheered the entire walk back to the car. Clara and John clambered into the back seat while Dave slid into the driver's seat.

There was a heavy silence that settled over them as they drove off, so thick that Clara felt like she could taste it. 

“Are you all right back there? You two look like you're heading to a funeral.” Dave said, glancing at them through the mirror.

“I...yeah. I'm okay dad. I just can't believe it's over.” It felt like every bit of energy had been sucked out of her, leaving her deflated and flat. 

“Why don't I feel happy? I should feel happy.” She lamented, blinking back tears.

“It's just the inevitable crash after the giant endorphin rush that has been the last ten hours. You'll feel normal again soon.” John told her. 

“Promise?”

“I'll make sure of it.” He said, allowing himself to smile. She returned it, trying to memorise every little detail on his face when it was like this, soft and gentle in a way that she never saw him look with anyone else.

“See now that's how I expected you would be looking at each other. That's better.” Dave said, nodding his approval.

When they arrived at John's house they were surprised to find a car parked in the driveway. 

“Tosh is here.” John said, furrowing his brow as Dave drove off.

“Ianto was telling people that the head chef wasn't in tonight.” Clara pointed out.

“But why is she _here_?” 

“I think it's Jack’s gift to us.” Clara explained. At that moment Tosh came running out of the house, so focused on getting to her car that for a moment she didn't notice Clara and John standing at the end of the driveway. She nearly jumped out of skin when John cleared his throat, though she regathered herself almost immediately.

“I _knew_ I was taking too long. Well, there goes the surprise.” She said, with a sigh.

She wished them both well and congratulated them before climbing into her car and driving off. Finding a neat, modern meal awaiting them on the table felt strange after the theme of the day, but it was refreshing to eat a plate of vegetables after having gorged on so much meat at lunch (not that it would be much different for John, what with him being vegetarian and all that).

Everything was ridiculously good, from the blackened cauliflower to the roasted mushrooms. In spite of the huge amount of food both of them had eaten at the wedding, soon they were looking down at two perfectly clean plates.

“What do we do now?” Clara asked, after John cleared the dishes away.

“I can think of something.” The way he looked her would never cease to be one of her favourite things in the world. There was so much hiding behind those icy eyes, a soft warmth that was rarely allowed to see the surface. She licked her lips, prepared for the kiss before it came. For once, when he pushed she didn’t push back, yielding to every touch, every cue. Tonight he had permission to lead, and she would willingly follow. 

His shirt was gone by the time they reached the bedroom. Her dress would be much harder work, so finely tailored that it had been a feat just to get in on as it hugged her skin. In the end John settled for kissing every bit of exposed neck and chest that he could reach, sliding her dress up until it was bunched around her hips. She helped him get a pillow beneath her, lifting her pelvis up and enabling her to keep her knees wider apart. John’s lips left a trail of kisses up and down the inside of her thighs, his breath hot and teasing on the growing wetness between her legs. There was no rush. John was comfortable taking his time, teasing her with the smallest, briefest of touches and building into long, broad strokes with his tongue as his fingers ghosted across her skin. Soft moans passed her lips, her hair catching slightly on the sweat beginning to break out on her head and neck. She desperately wanted to reach down and twist her fingers through his hair, to guide him, press him down and ride his face until she was finished but she resisted the urge. 

“Please. Doctor, please.” The name escaped before she even realised she was thinking about it and the bastard had the audacity to _stop_.

“What did you call me?” He asks, knowing damned well what she just said.

“Doctor.” She breathed, and he _smiled_ and the world stopped.

“I like the way that sounds.” 

“You’ll never hear it again if you don’t do something.” The threat was somewhat diminished by the whine in her voice, the hair clinging to her forehead. This time there was no teasing, as he licked and sucked, always watching and listening to her responses. The minutes that had previously drifted by began to speed up as she drew close. 

“Oh. Doctor. Yes, there, like that. _Doctor_.” Words of encouragement died on her lips as her climax hit her, thighs quaking as muscles clenched and unclenched rapidly. John guided her through it, until her hips settled back against the bed and she felt like she could breathe again. 

“You’ve never been more beautiful.” He told her, sitting up so he could see her, face still glistening with her wetness. 

“You’re always saying that.” She murmured, smiling up at him.

“And it’s true every time.” He replied, taking a moment to clean himself while pretending not to notice how awkward she was as she tried to rid herself of her dress once and for all. She was ready for him when he entered her, post-orgasm sensitivity making every movement feel like that much more. She liked to watch his face, to see the way it changed, to notice every little shift of expression. 

When he came it was with her name on his lips and her hands on his back, clinging to him as though he was giving her life.

There was no urgency as they lay there on top of the sheets, sweat catching on the covers. Clara was so comfortable, at peace in a way that was almost impossible to find in the fast paced world that so often consumed them all.

Side by side, only their arms brushed against each other, everything and nothing all at once.

“My John. My Doctor.” She murmured, turning her head to look at him, a lazy smile on her face.

“My Oswin. My Clara.” He replied, his face mirroring hers.

~~~~~~~~

Clara slept well that night, the morning having almost passed completely by the time she rose. 

“Morning, Mr Oswald.” She said, slipping her arms around John’s waist as he sat at the table, mug of tea by his side as he read journal articles. 

“James and Rose have invited themselves over for lunch.” He muttered in response, not looking up from his computer screen.

“When are they going to be here?” Clara asked, feeling herself descending into a state of mild panic. At that moment the doorbell rang.

“About now.” John answered needlessly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I need to clean! This place is an absolute disaster, I haven’t brushed my hair and I’m still wearing nothing but one of your shirts!” She gestured to the tee that was barely low enough to cover her.

“You look fine.” John replied, waving a hand vaguely in her direction.

“I’m going to get dressed. Answer the door.” She instructed him, before dashing off into the bedroom. With all the grace of a newborn baby giraffe, she skittered about the room in a panic until she had found clothes that matched on at least a notional level and looked like she might have been prepared for visitors.

She had just set a smile on her face and taken a step out of the bedroom when Rose was upon her, arms wrapped around her neck and forcing Clara to catch her weight.

“Hello cousin.” Rose said, her voice full of such pure joy that the smile on Clara’s face brightened and warmed into something genuine. “You look like you’ve pulled up okay.”

“I feel great.” Clara said, nodding as they walked over to where James and John appeared to be communicating entirely through eyebrow movements.

“We bought chips!” James announced happily, breaking into a beaming grin as Clara approached. She had to stretch up onto her toes to hug him. 

Rose and John glanced at each other, Rose raising an eyebrow as if asking the question. John hesitated for a moment, before opening his arms and allowing Rose to enter into a brief, tentative hug. 

“Look at you, turning on the charm. Good on you, Johnny.” James exclaimed, clapping his cousin proudly on the back. John glowered at him but said nothing.

They sat at the table eating chips, James with his feet resting in Rose’s lap, and Rose resting hers in Clara’s. For the first time, Clara watched as John actually relaxed and seemed to enjoy being in James’ company. Warmth settled in her stomach as he laughed and joked, smiling in a way she so rarely saw around anyone but her. For all his talk, this was his family and he cared.

By the time Rose and James left it was half two. Clara insisted that John sat with her and wrote out a thank you card for each and every guest that had celebrated with them. He didn’t understand the point, but did as she asked. 

They packed that afternoon, making sure that everything would be ready in the morning. Dave made dinner that night at their rental house, giving Clara a chance to say farewell to her parents for the last time before going away. Ten weeks. Clara had taken all the paid leave that she could, but was still forced to take much of the holiday as unpaid leave. She was just grateful that Donna had reassured her that her job would still be there when she came back.

Their alarm went off at the ungodly hour of 4am. The nearest airport was Inverness but Aberdeen was not much further away and offered more destinations, so it was there that they drove. By 6, they were in the queue to check their luggage. At long last, Clara was allowed to find out where their first destination was.

“Reykjavik! That’s been on my wishlist for as long as I can remember.” She exclaimed, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. The expression that crossed John’s face told her that not only was he rather pleased with himself, but that he might have already known that. 

After passing through security they had a coffee while watching all the movement on the tarmac outside. Looking across the table at John, talking animatedly about the mechanics of flight, Clara couldn’t help but think back to the early days were their entire relationship had revolved around moments like this over coffee.

“What? What is it?” John demanded, brow furrowed uncertainly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing that face.” John insisted.

“This is my face. I always look like this.” Clara replied, teasingly evasive.

“You’re smiling at me, that smile you always give me when you’re thinking.” It made her smile more that he had noticed.

“I love you.” She told him, resting her head against her hand and gazing at him fondly. Even after all this time, it still seemed to surprise him to hear it.

“Thank you.” He replied. Clara burst into laughter.

“Promise me you’ll never change.” She said, smiling at him. He echoed the smile back at her but didn't say a word.

Clara found herself subconsciously displaying her left wrist when their flight was called, showing the world that yes, she was taken and it was the man beside her that was hers. 

John had no carry on luggage and was in his seat as fast as blinking. Her own bag was small enough to stow beneath the seat in front of her rather than in the overhead compartment. She was scrolling through the books on her e-reader, trying to decide which of the three dozen books on her list she should read, when a flight attendant with a distinctly Australian accent stopped beside them.

“Good morning. You're Mr and Ms Oswald?” She asked. John opened his mouth to correct her but Clara sensed that it wouldn't be tactful so she cut in before he could speak.

 

“Yes, that's us. Is there a problem Tegan?” She asked, reading the name on the woman's badge. Tegan shook her head.

“No problem. It was requested that the airline give you these.” She handed over a couple of books. The front cover had a woman with a hat covering half her face, blonde curls spilling out from underneath it. _Melody of the River_ , the title proclaimed, just above the large print declaring it to be written by Amelia Pond. Clara thanked Tegan, opening the cover to find a handwritten note addressed to her, thanking her for her help. A formal thank you was printed on the following page. For Mum, Dad, and Aunt Sharon. _For Rory and our Eleven. And for Clara and her Doctor._

“I didn't do anything.” John said, flipping through pages on his copy. 

“She's being polite. It's what people do.” Clara told him, turning to page one and beginning to read. The plane faded away as she let herself be taken to the world of Melody and the web of intrigue, mystery, secrecy and lies surrounding her. The only things that interrupted her were the safety demonstration and the arrival of the drinks trolley. 

Touchdown was as smooth as it could ever hope to be, and stepping off the plane with Amy’s words in her bag and John by her side, she realised that she was the happiest she’d ever been.

She was only 28. She had all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so hecking sorry about how long this took to post. It's embarrassing, truly. Over two years. Fuck me. But thank you thank you thank you for all the kind supportive messages along the way. I hope it's worth it. I love these so much it makes my heart hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> As John Smith was already the name given to Twelvey, I decided to use the name James for Ten due to his adopting the name as an homage to Jamie McCrimmon. I gave Ten a Scottish accent because otherwise what's the point of having made him Twelve's cousin, setting the fic in Scotland, and not giving everyone the chance to imagine David Tennant's rather lovely natural voice.
> 
> Pete Tyler and Ellie Oswald are still alive in this fic because I love them and Clara and Rose's love for their parents makes me want to cry.
> 
> Pairings that are featured, mentioned, referenced, or implied:  
> Twelve (John Smith) and Clara Oswald  
> Ten (James Smith) and Rose Tyler  
> Mickey Smith and Martha Jones  
> Donna Noble and Shaun Temple  
> Dave and Ellie Oswald  
> Jackie and Pete Tyler  
> Kate Stewart and Osgood  
> Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones  
> Amy Pond and Rory Williams and Eleven  
> Jamie McCrimmon and Zoe Heriot  
> Barbara Wright and Ian Chesterton
> 
> I couldn't help myself once I realised that Dr Grace Holloway, Dr Liz Shaw, and Tegan Jovanka could be slipped into this fic in what I hope was a natural fashion, as the events lent themselves to the characters rather than the other way around. They're such under appreciated companions (especially Liz. I looooove Liz.) Also, I couldn't help but squeeze Isobel Watkins in there, the photographer from two era serial The Invasion. She's a little iconic in classic who circles.
> 
> If you have questions, find me @clarasdoctahs on twitter. I don't reply to comments on AO3 because I feel that they artificially and unfairly inflate the comment count.


End file.
